MRS.  L.  L.  V, 


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LIBRARY 

OF  THE 

University  of  California. 


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Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

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NATURE   STUDY 
IN    ELEMENTARY    SCHOOLS 


READER 


•JW^' 


NATURE    STUDY 

IN 

ELEMENTARY  SCHOOLS 

SECOND    READER 

iHgt^s,  Stories,  ^ocms 


MRS.  LUCY  LANGDON  WILLIAMS  WILSON,  Ph.D. 

Author  of  "Nature  Study  in  Elementary  Schools,   A.  Manual 

FOR   Teachers  " 

Head  of  the  Biological  Laboratories  in  the  Philadelphia 

Normal  School  for  Girls,  and  in  Charge  of  the  Nature 

Work  in  the  School  of  Observation  and  Practice, 

connected  with  the  Normal  School 


THE   MACMILLAN   COMPANY 

LONDON:  MACMILLAN  &  CO.,  Ltd. 

1899 

All  righis  reserved 


(itt«tKAL 


Copyright,  1898, 
By  the  MACMILLAN  COMPANY. 


Set  up  and  electrotyped  April,  1898.      Reprinted  December, 
1898;  March,  July,  1899. 


NorhJootJ  ^rcgs 

J.  S.  Cushing  &  Co.  —  Berwick  &  Smith 
Norwood  Mass.  U.S.A. 


PREFACE 

In  the  preparation  of  this  Reader  my  purpose 
has  been  threefold  ;  — 

Firsts  to  put  in  the  hands  of  the  teachers  who  fol- 
low the  Nature  Course  outlined  in  my  Manual  for 
Teachers  suitable  supplementary  reading  matter. 
The  myths  and  poems  are  arranged  in  an  order  cor- 
responding to  the  lessons  therein  suggested. 

Second^  to  tell  these  myths  in  language  simple 
enough  to  make  them  practicable  reading  lessons  for 
second  and  third  year  pupils.     • 

I  am  aware  that  most  of  these  myths  have  been 
infinitely  better  told  by  Hawthorne  and  others  ;  but 
even  the  charmingly  simple  version  given  by  Bald- 
win could  not  be  read  by  pupils  younger  than  those 
in  the  fourth  year  of  school  work,  and  the  place  of 
the  Greek  myth  should  be  much  earlier  in  the  child's 
school  life.  Tell  the  stories  as  elaborately  or  as  sim- 
ply as  you  please.  In  the  one  case  Hawthorne,  in 
the  other  Baldwin,  are  the  safest  guides.  Let  this 
serve  as  an  introduction  to  the  science  work.  After- 
wards, let  the  children  read  the  simple  version,  sup- 
plementing both  this  and  the  oral  lessons  with  the 

191652 


vi  PREFACE 

poems  and  pictures  with  which  this  little  book  is 
abundantly  provided. 

Thirds  I  hope  in  a  succeeding  edition  to  make  it 
possible  for  the  multitude  of  teachers  who  have 
neither  printing  press  nor  a  mimeograph  and  a 
typewriter  at  their  disposal  to  adopt  the  excellent 
device  of  "  Leaflet  Reading  Lessons."  This  method 
has  been  used  in  most  of  our  progressive  schools, 
and  is  a  well-known  feature  of  the  Hor-ace  Mann, 
the  New  Britain,  the  Chicago  Normal,  and  the 
Philadelphia  Normal  Schools. 

I  desire  to  thank  Messrs.  Chas.  Scribner's  Sons, 
Messrs.  Houghton,  Mifflin  &  Co.,  The  Youth's  Com- 
panion, Mr.  J.  T.  Trowbridge,  Miss  Emilie  Pouls- 
son,  Miss  Eleanor  Smith,  Mr.  Morgan  Bates,  and 
the  Educational  Publishing  Company,  to  each  of 
whom  I  am  indebted  for  copyright  privileges. 


L.  L.  W.  WILSON. 


Philadelphia  Normal  School, 
February,  1898. 


SUGGESTIONS   TO   TEACHERS 

The  original  matter  in  this  Reader  has  been 
written  and  the  selections  chosen  with  the  desire 
of  putting  into  the  hands  of  little  children  litera- 
ture which  shall  have,  for  their  minds,  the  same 
interest  and  value  that  really  good  books  and  maga- 
zines have  for  grown-up  people.  It  is  the  author's 
aim  to  prepare  the  ground  and  even  thus  early  to 
plant  the  seeds  of  that  which  may  later  develop  into 
a  taste  for  art,  for  literature,  and  for  nature. 

But  this  most  desirable  result  cannot  be  accom- 
plished by  merely  putting  the  Reader  in  the  hands 
of  the  child,  expecting  him  to  master  the  words  b}^ 
reading  the  sentences  ;  to  get  at  the  thought  while 
he  stumbles  and  hesitates  over  unfamiliar  words. 

There  are  perhaps  some  teachers  who  fail  to  de^ 
velop  the  thought  through  their  anxiety  to  give  aii 
exhaustive  drill  on  the  words  :  their  form,  their  pro 
nunciation,  their  meaning,  and  use. 

There  are  others,  perhaps  a  more  numerous  class, 
who  spend  so  much  time  in  developing  the  thought, 
and  in  practising  artificial  and  elaborate  devices  for 
teaching  "  expression,"  that  they  pay  no  attention  to 
the  necessary  mechanics  of  reading. 


Vlli  SUGGESTIONS   TO   TEACHERS 

Of  these  two  faults  in  method,  the  Latter  is  the 
more  serious  for  the  pupih  He  gets  not  even  a 
mastering  of  the  Avords.  It  seems  to  be  taken  for 
granted  that,  after  the  first  year,  little  or  no  drill  is 
necessary  for  the  acquiring  of  new  words,  and  that 
the  way  to  learn  to  read  is  to  have  a  series  of  oral 
language  lessons  based,  to  be  sure,  on  the  text. 

A  middle  course  is  recommended  :  — 

Divide  the  time  allotted  to  reading  into  two 
periods  as  widely  separated  from  each  other  as 
possible. 

In  the  first  of  these  teach  all  of  the  new  words, 
and  drill  upon  them  thoroughly.  Too  much  em- 
phasis cannot  be  laid  on  the  importance  of  this 
preparatory  word  study. 

In  general,  the  following  methods  will  be  satis- 
factory with  second  and  third  year  pupils  :  — 

I.  Write  upon  the  board  a  new  word  with  all  the 
diacritical  marks  that  may  be  necessary  to  enable  the 
pupil  to  pronounce  it  correctly. 

II.  Teach  the  meaning  of  the  word. 

III.  Proceed  iii  the  same  way  with  several  other 
words. 

IV.  Drill  on  the  instant  recognition  of  these 
words  without  diacritical  marks. 

V.  Let  the  pupils  write  the  words  from  dictation, 
marking  the  sounds  and  accents,  and  dividing  it 
properly  into  syllables. 

Later  in  the  day  let  him  read  the  lesson  for  the 


SUGGESTIONS   TO   TEACHERS  IX 

sake  of  the  tbonght.  Do  not  take  it  for  granted 
that  no  further  teacliing  is  necessary,  but  remember, 
too,  that  it  is  now  the  pupil's  time  to  talk. 

If  he  does  not  read  well  now,  it  is  because  he  fails 
to  grasp  the  thought.  A  word,  a  question,  will 
often  clear  up  the  obscurity  in  his  mind.  Lead  him 
to  think,  not  to  imitate. 

It  is  a  good  idea  to  have  a  systematic  plan  for 
silent  reading.  Many  of  the  short  stories  in  this 
little  book  will  lend  themselves  easily  to  this  de- 
vice. On  this  work  may  be  based  a  subsequent 
oral  and  written  language  lesson. 

Above  all  do  not  neglect  to  cultivate  his  taste, 
—  his  literary  and  artistic  instincts.  What  stanza, 
or  what  line,  or  what  part  of  this  did  you  like  best  ? 
Why  ?  are  questions  always  in  order  and  always 
interesting. 


L.  L.  W.  WILSON. 


Philadelphia  Normal  School, 
February,  1898. 


CONTENTS 

AUTUMN   STORIES  AND  POEMS 
THE  WINDS  AND  CLOUDS 

PAOB 

Mercury 3 

Apollo's  Cows 4 

Rain  Shower.     Selected 6 

Zephyr  and  his  Brothers 7 

Wind  Song.^     Robert  Louis  Stevenson     ....  9 

The  Bag  of  Winds 10 

Neptune 13 

How  ^neas  was  Saved 15 

FLOAVERS,  FRUITS,  AND    ANIMALS 

Little  Purple  Aster.     Selected 18 

Clytie 19 

The  Story  of  the  Thistle 22 

Aurora 25 

Aurora's  Tears 26 

Aurora  and  Tithonus 28 

1  From  "Child's  Garden  of  Verse,"  with  the  kind  permission  of 
Messrs.  Charles  Scribner's  Sons. 

xi 


XU  CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Ladybug.1     Cara  W.  Bronson 30 

Milkweed  Pods.^     Elizabeth  M.  Howell  .         .        .        .      32  - 


THE  SUN 

Apollo's  Mother 33 

Birth  of  Apollo .        .35 

Killing  of  the  Python  .        .        .        .        .        .37 

The  Sunbeams.2    Emilie  Poulsson   .        .        .        .        .39 

Apollo  and  Hyacinthus 40 

Story  of  Phaethon 44 

To  Apollo.     Keats 50 

Iris 50 

The  Rainbow.     Wordsworth 52 

If  I  WERE  A  SuNBEAM.3     L^^cj  Larcom  ....       53 

THE  MOON 

Diana 54 

Diana  and  Endymion 56 

Baby  and  the  Moon.     Adapted  from  Froebel        .        .  58 

The  Hottentot  Moon  Story 59 

Yum  Sing 62 

1  From  the  Youth's  Companion,  with  the  kind  permission  of  the 
publishers. 

2  From  "In  the  Child's  World,"  Messrs.  Milton  Bradley  and  Com- 
Ijany,  with  the  kind  permission  of  Miss  Poulsson. 

3  Poems  of  Longfellow,  Emerson,  Phoebe  and  Alice  Gary,  Miss  Lar- 
com, Mrs.  Thaxter,  and  Mr.  F.  D.  Sherman  are  here  reprinted  through 
the  kind  permission  of  Messrs.  Houghton,  Mifflin  &  Co. 


COIS  TENTS  xiii 

PAGE 

German  Story  of  the  Moon 65 

Icelandic  Story  of  the  Moon 66 

From  "  Seven  Times  One."    Jean  Ingelow    ...      68 

WINTER  STORIES  AND  POEMS 
PREPARATION  FOR  WINTER 
The  Ant  and  the  Grasshopper,    ^sop      ...      71 
The  Kind  Old  Oak.i     From  "  Fairyland  of   Flowers," 

Marah  Pratt 72 

Leaves  at  Play.  Frank  Dempster  Sherman  .  .  .73 
The  Broken  Wing.  An  Indian  Story  ....  75 
A  Bird  Story.    Adapted 79 

THE  STARS 

The  Star  and  the  Lily.     An  Indian  Story  .        .  82 

Sleep,  Baby,  Sleep.     German  Folk  Song        ...  85 

The  White  Bear 85 

THE  BIRDS 

Blue  Jay.     Shakespeare .90 

Chickadee.     Ralph  Waldo  Emerson         .        .        .        .91 

The  Story  of  the  Peacock 92 

The  Crow's  Children.  Phoebe  Cary  ....  95 
The  Indian  Story  of  the  Eagle  ....  97 
Why  the  Crow  is  Black.     Adapted  from  "  Canterbury 

Tales  " 99 

1  With  the  kind  permission  of  the  Educational  Publishing  Company. 


Xiv  CONrENTS 

SNOW 

PAGE 

Snowflakes.     Frank  Dempster  Sherman         .        .        .  102 

Diana  and  Niobe 103 

The  Tree  in  Winter.^     Words  and  music  in  Eleanor 

Smith's  "  Songs  for  Little  Children  "  .         .         .        .106 

MISCELLANEOUS 

The  Law  of  the  Wood.     Adapted  from  Mrs.  Gatty     .  107 

Extract  from  "The  Hemlock  Tree."     Longfellow   .  110 

Jupiter Ill 

Jupiter's  Eagle 113 

New  Year  Song.     Lucy  Larcom 116 

Janus 117 

Chronos 118 

Winter  :  Song  of  the  Wrens.     Tennyson  .        .        .119 

Winter.     Shakespeare 121 

SPRING  STORIES  AND  SONGS 
GENERAL 

Pluto 125 

Proserpine 126 

The  Finding  of  Proserpine 130 

Spring.     Celia  Thaxter 134 

ANIMALS 
The   Little    Worm   that   was   Glad  to  be   Alive. 

Adapted .136 

1  With  the  kind  permission  of  Miss  Eleanor  Smith. 


CONTENTS 


XV 


All  the  Birds  have  Come  Again.     Music 

Smith's  "  Songs  for  Little  Cliildren  " 
Swallow.     Bourdillon 
Robin  Redbreast.     An  Indian  Legend 
Bobolink.     Wilson  Flagg 
Wood  Pewee.^    J.  T.  Trowbridge   . 
How  THE  Bee  got  her  Sting,    ^sop 
Catch.     Ben  Jonson  .        .        . 


in  Eleanor 


138 
139 
140 
143 
145 
146 
147 


PLANTS 

Arbutus.     Whittier 148 

Hepatica.     Selected .  149 

Legend  of  the  Spring  Beauty.     Indian      .        .        .  150 

Calling  the  Violet.     Lucy  Larcom       ....  153 

Baucis  and  Philemon 156 

The  Oak  Tree.     Mary  Howitt 162 

Story  of  the  Poplar 163 

Apple  Blossoms.     Herrick 166 

Apollo  and  Daphne 167 

Dandelion    Fashions.      Clara   Doty   Bates.     Music   in 
Eleanor  Smith's  "Songs  for  Little  Children"  . 


SUMMER  STORIES   AND   SONGS 

How  Summer  came  upon  Earth.     An  Indian  Legend    .     177 
Red  Top  and  Timothy.     Lucy  Larcom  ....     180 

1  With  the  kind  permission  of  Mr.  Trowbridge. 


AUTUMN  STORIES  AND  POEMS 


Autumn 


THE   WINDS   AND    CLOUDS 


MERCURY 

Here  is  Mercury.  He 
is  carrying  a  message  for 
his  father,  Jupiter. 

He  was  up  at  the  break 
of  day,  for  he  had  a  long 
way  to  go. 

Around  his  ankles  he 
fastened  his  winged  san- 
dals. 

He  put  on  liis  head  his 
low-crowned  hat  w^ith  its 
two  bright  wings. 

Then  he  looked  for  his 
.staff. 

Here  it  is !  It  is  made 
of  gold. 

There  are  two  snakes 
twined  about  it.  But  they 
will  not  harm  Mercury ! 


4  AUTUMN   STORIES  AND  POEMS 

At  the  top  of  the  staff  is  another  pair  of 
wings. 

Now  he  is  ready  to  start  on  his  errand. 

Quickly  he  speeds  along.  He  flies  faster  than 
you  can  go  on  your  bicycle.  Yes;  I  saw  you, 
the  other  day,  flying  down  the  hill  like  a  bird. 

But  Mercury  can  fly  up  hill,  too. 

He  leaps  from  mountain  to  mountain. 

He  flies  over  the  sea,  his  winged  feet  just 
touching  the  waves. 


APOLLO'S   COWS 

I  HAVE  already  told  you  that  Mercury  was 
the  son  of  Jupiter.  But  I  did  not  tell  you  that 
his  mother  was  Maia.  She  was  a  goddess  so 
beautiful  that  flowers  sprang  up  wherever  she 
stepped. 

She  still  walks  through  the  meadows  and  calls 
up  the  flowers  from  their  winter  sleep. 

She  makes  the  earth  beautiful  with  violets 
and  buttercups. 

She  touches  the  apple-trees,  and  the  sweet- 
smelling  blossoms  come. 


APOLLO'S   COWS  5 

It  is  the  lovely  month  of  May  when  Maia 
takes  her  walk. 

Mercury  was  a  very  wise  baby,  —  more  won- 
derful even  than  your  little  baby  brother. 

For  when  he  was  only  a  few  hours  old^  he 
understood  everything  that  was  said  to  him. 

On  the  very  first  day  he  climbed  out  of  his 
cradle^  and  ran  down  to  the  seashore. 

There  he  found  a  tortoise  shell.  He  made 
holes  in  it,  and  strung  across  it  some  bits  of 
seaweed. 

What  do  you  think  he  was  making  ? 

What  would  you  do  if  you  had  it  in  your 
hand? 

Just  what  Mercury  did,  I  am  sure. 

He  put  it  to  his  lips  and  blew  upon  it. 

It  made  such  wonderful  music  that  the  flow- 
ers and  trees  danced  to  it.  The  birds  stopped 
singing  to  listen. 

After  awhile  he  was  tired.  He  lay  on  his 
back  on  the  shore,  looking  around  to  find  some 
new  mischief. 

•    As  he  lay  there,  he  saw  a  great  blue  meadow, 
with  white  cows  feeding  in  it. 

They  belonged  to  his  brother,  Apollo. 

Quick  as  a  thought  he  ran  after  them.     He 


6  AUTUMN  STORIES   AND   POEMS 

chased  them  into  a  cave;  where  he  fastened 
them  in. 

Apollo  was  very  angry  when  he  found  out 
what  Mercury  had  done,  and  complained  to  his 
father,  Jupiter. 

But  he  was  such  a  little  baby  that  Apollo  felt 
ashamed. 

Then  Mercury  picked  up  his  shell.  He 
breathed  upon  it  and  made  music  with  it. 

Apollo  listened  and  soon  forgot  his  anger. 
He  thought  only  of  the  beautiful  music. 

Then  the  big  brother  and  the  little  brother 
made  friends. 

Mercury  gave  Apollo  his  lyre. 

Apollo  gave  Mercury  charge  over  his  cows. 
You  can  often  see  him  driving  them  over  the 
blue  meadow  of  the  sky. 


RAIN   SHOWER 

Plump  little  baby  clouds, 
Dimpled  and  soft, 

Rock  in  their  air  cradles, 
Swinging  aloft. 


CUMULUS,    OR   WOOLPACK    CLOUDS 


'  Beautiful  cloud !   with  folds  so  soft  and  fair, 
Swimming  in  the  pure  and  quiet  air." 


LAYER  CLOUDS 


*  Little  white  cloudlets  up  in  the  sky, 
Say,  are  you  snowy  ships,  sailing  on  high  ? 
Or  are  you  downy  sheep,  running  to  find 
Shelter  away  from  the  rude  blowing  wind  ?  " 


ZEPHYR   AND   HIS   BROTHERS 

Snowy  cloud  mothers 

With  broad  bosoms  white, 

Watch  o'er  the  baby  clouds 
Slumbering  light. 

Tired  little  baby  clouds 

Dreaming  of  fears. 
Turn  in  their  air  cradles, 

Dropping  soft  tears. 

Great  snowy  mother  clouds 

Brooding  o'er  all. 
Let  their  warm  mother  tears 

Tenderly  fall. 


ZEPHYR  AND   HIS   BROTHERS 

Zephyr  is  the  west  wind. 

Although  he  is  full  of  mischief,  he  is  kind 
and  gentle. 

He  is  not  always  playing,  for  he  has  work 
to  do. 

He  lives  in  a  large  dark  cave  with  his  father 
-^olus  and  his  brothers.  North  Wind,  South 
Wind,  and  East  Wind. 


^ 


W 


Tt  is  a  very  busy  family,  for 
jEolus  will  not  let  any  of  his 
children  be  idle. 

South  Wind  has  to  make  the 
oranges  and  bananas  grow. 

East  Wind  has  to  bring  the 
rain  and  water  Mother  Earth's 
gardens. 

West  Wind  plants  the  seeds  of 
the  dandelions  and  the  daisies. 
He  covers  them  up  with  leaves  so 
that  they  will  be  warm  and  will 
take  root  by  and  by. 

He  flies  kites  and  sails  boats 
and  turns  wind-in  ills. 

I  have  not  said  anything  about 
North  Wind. 


ft 


WIND   SONG  9 

Maybe  you  will  like  him  best  of  all. 

He  is  the  friend  of  Jack  Frost.-  He  brings 
you  snow  and  ice.  Then  you  can  skate  and 
ride  on  your  sled. 

But  sometimes  Boreas  —  for  that  is  the  name 
of  the  North  Wind  —  is  very  cruel. 

He  piles  the  snow  so  high  that  poor  people 
are  buried  in  it. 

When  he  is  angry,  he  tears  up  houses  and 
trees,  and  everything  that  stands  in  his 
way. 

He  rolls  up  the  waves  of  the  ocean  until  they 
are  higher  than  your  house. 

Then  the  ship  goes  down,  and  the  poor  sailors 
are  drowned. 


WIND   SONG 

I  SAW  you  toss  the  kites  on  high, 
And  blow  the  birds  about  the  sky, 
And  all  around  I  heard  you  pass 
Like  ladies'  skirts  across  the  grass ; 

0  wind  a  blowing  all  night  long ! 

0  wind  that  blows  so  loud  a  song ! 


10  AUTUMN  STORIES  AND   POEMS 

I  saw  the  different  things  you  did. 
But  always  felt  yourself  you  hid ; 
I  felt  you  push,  I  felt  you  call. 
And  could  not  see  yourself  at  all; 

0  wind  a  blowing  all  night  long ! 

0  wind  that  blows  so  loud  a  song ! 

0  you  that  are  so  strong  and  cold, 
0  blower,  are  you  young  or  old  ? 
Are  you  a  beast  of  field  and  tree 
Or  just  a  big  strong  child  like  me  ? 

0  wind  a  blowing  all  night  long ! 

0  wind  that  blows  so  loud  a  song ! 

— Robert  Louis  Stevenson. 


THE  BAG  OP  WINDS 

Let  me  tell  you  a  story  about  ^olus  who  tied 
up  some  of  his  children  in  a  bag. 

There  was  once  a  great  soldier  named 
Ulysses. 

We  had  a  great  soldier  in  our  country  named 
Ulysses.     Have  you  ever  heard  of  him  ? 

But  this  one  I  am  going  to  tell  you  about 
lived  in  Greece. 


THE   BAG  OF   WINDS  11 

He  had  fought  in  a  long  war  and  was  going 
home  in  his  ship.  But  he  stopped  at  the  cave 
of  ^olus  to  make  him  a  visit. 

^olus  was  very  glad  to  see  this  great  man. 

When  he  was  going  away,  ^olus  put  in  the 
ship  a  great  many  presents. 

One  of  these  was  a  big  bag  filled  with  some- 
thing and  tied  at  the  top  with  a  silver  string. 

It  looked  just  like  your  stocking  when  Kriss 
Kr ingle  fills  it  on  Christmas  Eve.  Only,  of 
course,  it  was  very  large. 

^olus  tied  it  to  the  mast  of  the  ship  with  his 
own  hands. 

He  then  whispered  in  Ulysses'  ear  and  told 
him  what  was  in  it. 

"  But  do  not  let  the  sailors  know/'  he  said, 
"  for  that  will  spoil  all." 

Ulysses  said  "Good-by"  and  set  sail. 

East  Wind  was  sent  by  ^olus  to  help  Ulysses 
on  his  way,  for  his  home  was  in  the  west. 

The  sea  was  smooth  and  East  Wind  was 
doing  his  work  so  well  that  Ulysses  was  near 
home. 

But  the  sailors  wanted  to  see  what  was  in  the 
bag.  You  know  that  you  want  to  see  what  is 
in  your  stocking  on  Christmas  morning. 


12  AUTUMN  STORIES  AND   POEMS 

So,  early  one  morning,  while  Ulysses  was 
asleep,  what  do  you  think  they  did  ? 

They  untied  the  string  to  look  in  the  bag,  and 
all  at  once  there  was  a  loud  — 

Whizz!  — 

And  North  Wind  rushed  out ! 

He  fought  with  East  Wind. 

He  beat  the  waves  until  they  grew  white  with 
foam. 

He  piled  them  on  top  of  one  another. 

The  ship  was  driven  out  of  his  course. 

Ulysses  heard  the  roar  and  whistle  of  the 
winds. 

He  ran  out  on  deck. 

He  saw  what  his  sailors  had  done ! 

But  he  was  very  strong,  and  very  wise. 

He  went  to  the  helm,  which  steers  the  boat 
just  as  you  steer  your  sled  when  you  are  going 
down  hill. 

He  brought  the  ship  after  many  days  to  land. 


NEPTUNE 


n 


NEPTUNE 


Deep  down  under  the  waves,  on  the  floor  of 
the  ocean,  is  built  a  beautiful  palace. 

Its  walls  are  covered  with  pink  sea-shells. 
In  each  shell  lies  a  great  white  pearl. 

Its  roof  is  of  coral ;  its  floor  is  a  soft  green 
carpet  of  sea-moss. 


14  AUTUMN  STORIES   AND  POEMS 

Here  lives  Neptune,  the  ruler  of  the  seas. 

Often  he  calls  for  his  chariot,  and  rides  to 
the  top  of  the  waters. 

His  horses  have  golden  manes,  and  hoofs  of 
brass. 

The  sharks  and  whales,  and  other  monsters 
that  live  in  the  sea,  play  about  his  path  as  his 
chariot  parts  the  waters. 

Sometimes  his  son,  Triton,  goes  before  his 
father. 

He  carries  a  long  sea-shell  for  a  horn. 

He  blows  a  blast  through  this  to  let  all 
things  know  that  the  great  Neptune  is  coming. 

Then  the  waves  become  smooth  as  glass. 

Neptune  carries  in  his  hand  his  trident,  a  staff 
with  three  sharp  points. 

One  blow  of  this  staff  will  shake  the  earth. 

All  the  winds  obey  him.  ^olus.  King  of 
the  Winds,  is  his  servant. 

Once  he  disobeyed  his  great  master,  and 
almost  wrecked  ^Eneas. 

This  is  the  story  :  — 


HOW   ^NEAS   WAS   SAVED 


HOW   iENEAS  WAS   SAVED 

Juno  looked  down  from  Olympus,  and  saw 
the  ships  of  ^neas  sailing  on  a  smooth  sea. 

Now  ^neas  had  once  offended  Juno,  and 
made  her  very  angry. 

She  had  never  forgiven  him. 

"  I  shall  get  the  winds  out,  and  pile  the 
waters  upon  him,"  said  cruel  Juno. 

She  called  to  King  ^olus,  and  begged  him 
to  set  the  winds  loose. 

He  said  he  was  afraid  of  his  master,  Neptune, 
who  alone  had  the  right  to  disturb  the  sea. 

But  she  coaxed  and  coaxed,  and,  at  last,  he 
opened  the  door  of  the  cave  in  which  they  were 
sleeping. 

Then  the  fierce  winds  rushed  out. 

They  howled  and  hissed  like  wild  beasts. 

They  piled  the  waves  up  mountain  high. 

The  ships  of  ^neas  were  overturned  like  toy 
ships.     Some  were  dashed  against  the  rocks. 

-zEneas  and  his  men  tried  to  save  their  lives 
by  holding  on  to  broken  planks. 

At  last,  when  hope  was  almost  gone,  ^neas 
cried : 


16 


AUTUMN   STORIES  AND   POEMS 


''  Father  Neptune,  help  me  !     Help  me  !" 
Up  came  Neptime  from  the  bottom  of  the  sea, 
drawn  by  his  wonderful  horses. 

He  spoke  to  the  whids  hi  a  stern  voice. 


"  Back  to  your  cave,  you  winds  !  How  dare 
you  come  out  without  leave  !  " 

At  once  they  became  quiet  and  flew  back  to 
their  cave. 


HOW  ^NEAS   WAS   SAVED 


17 


Neptune  then  helped  ^neas  and  his  sailors 
into  their  ships. 

He  showed  them  where  a  beautiful  smooth 
harbor  lay. 

Then  he  jumped  into  his  chariot.  His  horses 
plunged  down  into  the  waters,  and  carried  him 
to  his  palace  of  pink  sea-shells. 


FLOWERS,  FRUITS,  AND  ANIMALS 


LITTLE   PURPLE  ASTER 


Little  Purple  Aster,  sitting  on 

her  stem, 
Peeping  at  the  passers-by,  beck- 
oning at  them, 
Staring    o'er   at    Golden   Rod,   by   the 
pasture  bars. 
Gives  to  him  a  timid  nod  when  he  turns 
his  stars. 


Little  Purple  Aster  waits  till  very 

late. 
Till    the   flowers   have   faded   from 

the  garden  gate; 
Then   when  all  is   dreary,   see  her 

buds  unfurled, 
Come    to    cheer    a    changeful    and 

a  sombre  autumn  world. 
18 


CLYTIE  19 


CLYTIE 


Clytie  was  a  pretty  fairy  who  liked  to  be 
all  day  in  the  woods. 

She  was  always  up  and  dressed  before  day- 
break. 

Then  she  climbed  to  the  top  of  a  hill.  She 
loved  to  watch  the  sun  coming  up  in  the  east. 

How  pretty  it  was  to  see  the  pink  color  come 
into  the  sky ! 

Then  in  a  little  while  the  shining  edge  of  the 
sun  would  appear. 

Clytie  watched  it  growing  larger  and  larger. 
At  last  the  great  ball  filled  the  world  with  light. 

After  this  she  would  run  down  the  hill  to  a 
cool  stream. 

Every  day  she  sat  on  its  bank.  She  put  her 
little  white  feet  in  the  cool  water.  Her  pretty 
green  dress  was  tucked  up  so  that  it  would  not 
get  wet. 

She  turned  her  sweet  face  up  to  the  sun. 
And  Zepliyr  played  with  the  curls  of  her  yellow 
hair. 

"I  love  the  sun."  she  said.  "He  is  so  bright 
and  beautiful." 


20  AUTUMN  STORIES   AND  POEMS 

Sometimes  clouds  came  and  covered  the  face 
of  the  sun.     Then  Clytie  was  sad. 

But  after  the  shower  the  sun  would  smile 
down  on  her  again.  And  she  would  laugh  with 
glee. 

As  she  sat  among  the  hollyhocks  and  lilies 
she  looked  like  a  pretty  flower  herself^,  with  her 
green  dress  and  yellow  hair. 

Apollo  thought  so^  too^  as  he  looked  down 
lovingly  on  her. 

But  the  time  came  for  the  sun  to  go  down 
in  the  west.  Then  Clytie  would  climb  up  the 
hill  again  and  watch  him  sink  below  the 
horizon. 

"  Good-night,  dear  Sun ;  I  shall  watch  for 
you  to-morrow." 

Apollo  thought  that  he  had  never  seen  any- 
thing so  beautiful  as  Clytie. 

"  What  a  pity  that  she  should  die,  like  other 
people ! "  he  thought.  "  How  I  should  miss 
her  pretty  face  every  morning !  " 

Then  he  began  to  think  what  he  should  do  to 
keep  Clytie  always  young  and  pretty  and  loving. 

"\  know  now,"  he  said.  And  he  looked 
warmly  down  on  Clytie's  yellow  head  as  she  sat 
among  the  flowers  by  the  edge  of  the  water. 


CLYTIE 


21 


"  She  shall  be  a  beautiful  yellow  flower !  '* 

It  was  no  sooner  said  than  done.  For  Apollo 
was  a  great  and  powerful  god. 

Her  little  feet  took  root  in  the  soft  warm 
earth. 

Her  green  frock  grew  into  shining  leaves. 

Her  pretty  white  face  and  yellow  hair  became 
a  lovely  flower  which  nodded  and  smiled  up  at 
the  sun  ! 

The  next  time  you  go  into  your  grand- 
mother's garden,  run  up  to  the  sunflower  that 
stands  near  the  fence.  Whisper  to  it,  "  Clytie/' 
and  see  what  happens. 

m 


22 


AUTUMN   STORIES   AND  POEMS 


THE   STORY   OF   THE   THISTLE 


See  this  tall  soldier  in  a  kilt  so  short  that  it 
does  not  cover  his  knees  ! 

What  a  strange  dress ! 
Do  you  know   to   what  coun- 
try he  belongs  ? 

He  is  a  Highland  laddie  from 
Scotland.     His  home  is  in  a  val- 
ley shut  in  by  high  hills.      They 
are  covered  in  the  summer  and 
the  autumn  with  purple  heather. 
The  soldier  loves  the  heather, 
but  he  loves  the   thistle  more. 
The    thistle    is   a    soldier,   too ! 
It     saved     Scotland    from    her 
foes. 

This    is    how    it    hap- 
pened :  — 

The    fierce    cruel   men 
from     the     north     came 
down  to  Scotland. 
There  they  fought  many  battles. 
The  brave   Highlanders  tried  hard  to   drive 
them  back. 


S  rORY   OF  THir  THISTLE  23 

One  day,  weary  and  worn,  they  lay  down  on 
the  ground  to  take  a  little  rest. 

Each  soldier  wrapped  his  blanket  about  him. 
Soon  all  were  sound  asleep. 

Something  came  stealing  up  on  the  other  side 
of  the  hill. 

Nearer  and  nearer  it  came. 

It  was  the  Northmen  creeping  stealthily 
along. 

Sometimes  the  dry  branches  of  the  tree  would 
snap,  as  the  soldiers  put  them  aside. 

Or  the  crisp  leaves  would  crackle  noisily  under 
their  feet. 

^^  Sh !  Sh  !  "  the  leader  would  say. 

The  man  in  the  moon  saw  them  coming,  as  he 
peeped  through  the  clouds. 

Quickly  he  brushed  away  the  clouds.  He 
tried  to  waken  the  Scots  by  sending  his  beams 
right  into  their  eyes. 

But  still  the  Scots  slept  on. 

At  last,  a  brave  thistle  said  to  itself :  — 

"  I  shall  save  Scotland  even  if  I  die  for 
it." 

Eaising  high  his  sharp,  thorny  head,  he  stood 
in  the  path  of  the  savages. 

In  another  moment  a  great  naked  foot  came 


24 


AUTUMN   STOKIES   AND   POEMS 


down   upon  the  thistle.     A   loud   cry   of    pain 
rang  out  in  the  still  night. 


wakened  the  Scots, 
jumped  up. 
rubbed  their  eyes, 
was  the  enemy  almost 

^f    ^^Ss^     They  seized  their  weapons. 
/^-tr        With    one    shout    they 
ln;"^      \    rushed    upon    the    North- 
men.    They  hurled  them  down 
W^     the  hill. 
^       ^  That  was  the  last  of  them. 

So    the    thistle    saved    Scotland.      And    so, 
above  all  else,  do  the  Scots  love  the  thistle. 


AURORA  25 

AURORA 

A  LITTLE  wind  comes  and  wakens  all  the 
birds  and  flowers  every  morning. 

He  rocks  the  branches  of  the  trees  where  the 
birds  have  their  nests.  He  says^  "  Wake  up, 
little  birds,  and  sing !     Aurora  is  coming." 

He  shakes  the  flowers,  a  little  rudely  even,  to 
waken  them.  Then  they  lift  their  heads,  and 
send  out  their  sweet  breath  on  the  air. 

He  comes  through  your  open  window  and 
tickles  your  cheek  with  your  curls.  He  says, 
"  Get  up,  little  boy ;  the  dawn  is  here  !  " 

Perhaps  you  are  a  little  sleepyhead,  and  turn 
your  back  on  the  wind,  going  to  sleep  again. 

But  if  you  wake  up  with  the  birds  and  the 
flowers,  you  will  see  the  coming  of  beautiful 
Aurora. 

She  is  the  goddess  of  the  Dawn,  and  she  lives 
in  a  golden  palace  near  Apollo. 

Every  morning  she  pulls  aside  the  curtains  of 
the  East  with  her  rosy-tipped  fingers,  and  looks 
out  upon  the  world. 

There  she  stands  in  her  yellow  gown,  a  torch 
high  above  her  head.  She  wants  to  see  if  the 
road  is  clear  for  the  sun  god. 


26  AUTUMN   STORIES   AND   POEMS 

She  turns  her  back  to  tell  him  that  all  is  ready. 
Then,  flying  before  hirn,  she  scatters  roses  in 
his  path. 


AURORA'S   TEARS 

Did  you  ever  take  a  walk  in  the  fields  after 
the  sun  has  gone  to  sleep  ? 

The  grass  is  wet.  Little  pearly  drops  are  on 
the  flowers. 


AURORA'S  TEARS  27 

It  is  as  if  somebody  was  quietly  weeping, 
weeping. 

All  night  long,  too,  her  tears  are  falling. 
In  the  early  morning  sun  they  glisten  like  tiny 
diamonds. 

Who  is  it  that  cries  so  softly,  and  why  is  she 
so  sad  ? 

This  is  the  story  :  — 

Aurora  still  weeps  for  her  son,  Memnon. 
Yet  it  is  thousands  of  years  since  he  died. 

Every  evening,  when  the  darkness  sets  in  and 
all  things  are  still  and  quiet,  she  grows  sad  and 
lonely. 

For  she  thinks  of  that  night,  so  long  ago, 
when  she  saw  her  son  dead. 

He  was  fighting  a  great  battle.  With  his 
lance  and  his  spear  he  was  winning  the  day. 

Then  he  met  the  hero  Achilles,  and  went  down 
before  him. 

Aurora,  watching  from  Olympus,  wept  for 
her  son. 

His  brothers,  the  winds,  carried  his  body  to 
the  banks  of  a  river. 

There  Aurora,  with  her  maidens,  the  Hours, 
took  leave  of  him.     There  they  buried  him. 


28  AUTUMN   STORIES   AND   POEMS 

The  queen  of  night  covered  the  starry  heavens 
with  black  clouds,  in  mourning  for  Aurora's  son. 

But  Aurora  has  never  gotten  over  her  loss. 
Great  teardrops  gather  in  her  eyes  and  fall  one 
by  one,  as  she  thinks  of  her  brave  Memnon. 


AURORA  AND  TITHONUS 

There  was  once  a  beautiful  youth  named 
Tithonus  who  loved  Aurora  dearly. 

Lying  in  the  green  grass,  he  watched  for  her 
every  morning. 

And  every  morning  Aurora  smiled  down  on 
him. 

One  day  Tithonus  was  sick  and  dying. 

He  begged  to  be  carried  out  into  the  green 
meadow.     He  wanted  one  last  look  at  Aurora. 

But  when  she  saw  him,  she  caught  him  up  in 
her  chariot,  and  carried  him  to  Jupiter. 

She  begged  the  King  of  the  gods  to  grant 
that  Tithonus  should  live  forever,  because  she 
loved  him. 

Jupiter  granted  this,  and  Aurora  was  happy. 

But  she  forgot  to  ask  Jupiter  to  grant  that  he 
should  be  forever  young. 


AURORA  AND   ITrHONUS 


29 


So,  after  many  years,  the  beautiful  youth 
grew  ugly  and  withered. 

His  back  was  stooped.    His  head  was  bald.    His 
legs  trembled.    His  skin  was  brown  and  wrinkled. 
Aurora  was  still  as  young  and  beautiful   as 
ever.     The  gods  never  grow  old. 

She  begged  Jupiter  to  take  back  his  gift.  But 
that  could  not  be. 

Aurora  took  pity  on  him,  and  said,  "  Dear 
Tithonus,  you  must  live  forever.  But  you  shall 
live   always  in  the  green  meadow.     For  there 

you  were  happy  and  there 
I  first  saw  you." 

Then,  touching  him 
with  her  wand,  she  turned 
him  into  a  grasshopper ! 


30 


AUTUMN   STORIES   AND   POEMS 


LADYBUG 


Ladybug,  ladybug, 

Fly  away  home  ! 

Your   house   is    on 

fire, 

Your  children  will  burn. 


Dear  ladybug, 
I  am  sorry  for  you 
If    your  house   is    on 
fire. 
Oh,    what  will  you 
do? 
And    your    poor     little 
children 
All  burning,  dear  me ! 
It  does  seem  as  cruel 

As  cruel  can  be. 
Oh,  why  don't  you  hurry, 

You  slow  little  elf? 
If  I  knew  where  you  lived, 
I  should  go  there  myself. 
The  house  might  burn  down 

While  you're  turning  about. 
'Tis  because  you  are  feeling 
So  badly,  no  doubt, 


LADYBlfG  31 

That  you  hardly  can  stir  — 

No  wonder^  poor  dear! 
You  must  be  half  crazy 

Such  bad  news  to  hear ; 
Though  I've  told  it  to  dozens, 

1  think,  besides  you, 
I  feel  just  like  crying 

Whenever  1  do. 
Now  think  of  your  babies ! 

Run,  ladybug,  run ! 
I  do  hope  some  neighbor 

Has  saved  every  one 
From  the  terrible  fire. 

And  ladybug,  then, 
You  can  build  a  new  house, 

And  be  happy  again. 

—  Cara  W.  Bronson 


32 


AUTUMN  STORIES  AND   POEMS 


MILKWEED   PODS 


Along  the  dusty  way  they  stood 

Till  curious  fingered  Autumn  chanced  to  pass. 
And,  like  Pandora,  thought  she  could 

Just  slightly  raise  the  cover.     But,  alas ! 
The  winged  contents  were  away 

And  nought  of   Autumn's  skill   could  make 
them  stay. 

—  Elizabeth  M.  Howell. 


THE    SUN 


APOLLO'S   MOTHER 

Do  you  remember  that  Mercury's  big  brother 
was  called  Apollo  ? 

Jupiter  was  the  father  of  both  of  them^  but 
Apollo's  mother  was  called  Latona. 

She  was  not  so  pretty  and  merry  as  golden- 
haired  Maia,  the  mother  of  Mercury. 

But  she  was  tall  and  beautiful,  with  eyes  and 
hair  as  black  as  night. 

She  was  very  unhappy.  Juno  was  jealous 
of  her,  and  drove  her  away  from  home. 

The  poor  lady  had  to  go  on  and  on  without 
resting  for  a  single  moment.  For  Juno  made 
all  things,  both  great  and  small,  promise  not  to 
help  her. 

One  day,  tired  and  thirsty,  she  saw,  not  far 
away,  a  pond  of  clear  water. 

She  ran  towards  it,  and  she  knelt  on  the 
bank. 

D  33 


34 


AUTUMN   STORIES   AND   POEMS 


She  put  her  mouth  down  to  take  a  drink  of 
the  cool  water. 

But  some  country  people  who  were  working 
on  the  shore  would  not  let  her  drink. 

"  Why  are  you  so  cruel  ?  Is  not  water  free 
to  all  ?  Have  pity  on  me !  I  am  thirsty,  aind 
I  only  ask  a  drink  of  this  cool  water !  " 

But  they  waded  into  the  pool,  and  stirred  up 
the  mud  with  their  feet.  Tlien  the  water  was 
not  fit  to  drink. 

jj.  Then  Latona  lifted  up  her  hands  to 

f^ki     heaven  and  prayed,  ^^May  they  never 
leave  that   pool,  but   pass  their   lives 
there !  " 
And  so  it  happened ! 

The  green  coats  and  loose  white 

skirts  shrunk  up.    Their  necks 

tyrew    shorter    and   shorter. 

At  last  their  heads  were 

joined 

lif"?'   to  their 

iiH bodies. 


BIRTH   OF   APOLLO  35 

Their  voices  grew  harsh,  and  their  cruel 
mouths,  which  had  refused  a  drink  of  water  to 
poor  Latona^  were  stretched  from  ear  to  ear. 

And  ever  since  they  have  lived  as  frogs  in 
the  slimy  pool. 

Sometimes  they  jump  out  for  a  little  while 
on  the  bank,  and  then  you  can  see  their  green 
backs  and  white  bellies. 

But  pretty  soon  they  have  to  jump  into  the 
water  again. 


BIRTH   OF  APOLLO 

At  last,  one  day,  Latona  came  to  the  sea. 

As  she  ran  along  the  beach,  tired  and  footsore, 
she  cried  out :  — 

"  0  Father  Neptune,  help  me  !  " 

Neptune,  the  god  of  the  sea,  felt  sorry  for  her. 

He  sent  out  of  the  water  a  huge  fish,  called 
a  dolphin. 

The  dolphin  took  Latona  upon  its  back.  He 
carried  her  over  the  waves  to  a  little  island 
named  Delos. 

This  island  was  not  much  bigger  than  a  boat. 

To  keep  it  from  rocking,  Neptune  fastened  it 
with  chains  to  the  bottom  of  the  sea. 


36 


AUTUMN   STORIES   AND   POEMS 


By  and  by  two  babies  were  born.  The  boy 
was  called  Apollo,  and  his  twin  sister  was 
named  Diana. 


The  two  children  grew  very  fast. 

Apollo  was  soon  a  tall  and  handsome  young 
man. 

His  face  was  as  bright  as  the  sun. 

His  father,  Jupiter,  was  proud  of  him.  He 
gave  him  a  golden  chariot  and  a  pair  of  swans. 
These  would  carry  him  over  land  and  sea, 
wherever  he  wanted  to  go. 

He  also  gave  him  a  silver  bow,  with  sharp, 
briorht  arrows. 


THE    KILLING   OF   THE   PYTHON  37 

Apollo  was  such  a  good  shot  that  his  arrows 
never  missed  their  mark. 

Let  me  tell  you  how  he  shot  the  great  ser- 
pent^ Python,  with  one  of  these  shining  arrows. 


THE  KILLING   OP   THE   PYTHON 

The  Python  was  a  huge  serpent.  He  lived  in 
a  cave  near  the  foot  of  a  mountain  in  Greece. 

Every  little  while  he  would  come  out  and 
seize  sheep  and  oxen.  And  sometimes  he  took 
men,  women,  and  little  children.  He  dragged 
them  into  his  den  to  eat  them. 

All  the  people  lived  in  great  terror  of  him. 

Many  had  tried  to  kill  him.  But  the  very 
sight  of  the  cruel  monster  had  made  them  shake 
with  fear. 

At  last  Apollo  heard  of  this.  Getting  into 
his  beautiful  golden  car,  he  was  carried  to  the 
spot  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye. 

When  the  people  saw  the  bright  god,  they 
began  to  sing  songs  of  joy. 

Then  Apollo,  taking  his  silver  bow  on  his 
shoulder,  went  into  the  mountain. 


38 


AUTUMN   STORIES   AND   POEMS 


When  the  Python  heard  him  coming,  he 
rushed  out  of  his  cave  to  devour  him. 

His  jaws  were  open.  His  great  scaly  body 
glistened  in  the  light  which  Apollo  shed  around 

him. 


But   Apollo    kept 

his  bright  eyes  fixed 

on    him.     Taking    a 

step  forward,  he  drew 

his  bow.    The  arrow 

sped  right  down  the 

throat  of  the  serpent. 

Here  is  a  picture  of 

^^.         -^p,  ("-^-^v.  Apollo  just  after  he 

'm(S    \  ."  4^^^-x       has  pulled  the  bow. 

His  arm,  which 
you  can  not  see,  is 
still  stretched  out. 
He  seems  to  be- look- 
ing after  the  arrow  to  see  whether  it  has  gone 
where  he  meant  to  send  it. 

When  you  throw  a  ball,  which  arm  do  you 
use  ?  Apollo  used  his  right  arm  to  shoot  the 
arrow. 

The  people  loved  Apollo  so  much  for  ridding 
them  of  this  cruel  beast  that  they  begged  him 


THE   SUNBEAMS  39 

to  stay  with  them  always  while  he  was  on 
earth. 

"  Yes/'  said  Apollo.  "  I  shall  build  my  house 
here." 

So  on  the  very  spot  where  he  killed  the 
Python  there  was  built  a  beautiful  house. 

The  place  was  called  by  Apollo  ^'Delphi/'  or 
''Dolphin/'  after  the  kind  fish  which  had  carried 
his  mother  on  its  back  to  Delos. 


THE   SUNBEAMS 

"  Now,  what  shall  I  send  to  the  earth  to-day  ?  " 
Said  the  great,  round,  golden  Sun. 

"  Oh !  let  us  go  down  there  to  work  and  play/' 
Said  the  Sunbeams,  every  one. 

So  down  to  the  Earth,  in  a  shining  crowd, 

Went  the  merry,  busy  crew  ; 
They  painted  with  splendor  each  floating  cloud 

And  the  sky  while  passing  through. 

"  Shine  on,  little  Star,  if  you  like,"  they  cried ; 

"  We  will  weave  a  golden  screen 
That  soon  all  your  twinkling  and  light  shall  hide, 

Though  the  Moon  may  peep  between." 


40 


AUTUMN  STORIES  AND  POEMS 


The  Sunbeams  then    in    through  the  windows 
crept. 

To  the  children  in  their  beds  — 
They  poked  at  the  eyelids  of  those  who  slept, 

Gilded  all  the  little  heads. 

"  Wake  up,  little  children !  "  they  cried  in  glee, 
"  And  from  Dreamland  come  away ! 

We've  brought  you  a  present:  wake  up  and  see! 
We  have  brought  you  a  sunny  day  !  " 

—  Emilie  Poulsson. 


APOLLO  AND   HYACINTHUS 

Do  you  know  what  it  is  to  play  quoits? 

Once  the  beautiful  sun-god 
Apollo  played  a  game  of   quoits 

with  Hyacinthus. 

Listen  and  I  will  tell  you  what  a 
sad  thing  put  an  end  to  the  game. 

Apollo  loved  Hyacinthus  dear- 
ly. He  loved  him  as  if  the  boy 
had  been  his  younger  brother. 

He  played  with  him  every  day. 
He  often  took  him  with  him  to 
the  mouutains. 


APOLLO   AND   HYACINTHUS  41 

He  taught  him  how  to  fish.  He  showed  him 
the  streams  in  which  the  fish  were  plenty. 

He  gave  him  a  swift  horse,  and  two  or  three 
beautiful  dogs.  For  he  wanted  Hyacinthus  to 
go  with  him  on  the  hunt. 

In  fact,  everything  that  the  boy  wished  Apollo 
gave  him. 

But  listen  to  what  happened. 

One  day  Apollo  took  a  long  walk  with  Hya- 
cinthus out  in  the  green  fields. 

But  the  fields  were  no  longer  green.  They 
were  brown  and  dry  from  the  great  heat  of 
summer. 

The  flowers  drooped  their  heads  for  want  of 
rain. 

The  wheat  and  corn  were  dying  in  the  hot 
sun. 

Not  a  leaf  was  stirring  on  the  trees. 

The  sheep  and  cows  had  left  the  open  fields 
where  they  had  been  grazing.  They  were  stand- 
ing under  the  trees  near  the  water. 

Apollo  and  Hyacinthus  sat  down  under  the 
shade  of  a  large  chestnut  tree  to  get  cool. 

After  a  little  while,  the  god  took  his  lyre. 
He  made  the  sweetest  music  that  you  ever  heard. 

Soon  Hyacinthus  became  restless.     Like  most 


42  AUTUMN   STORIES   AND  POEMS 

lads,  he  liked  to  play  games  much  better  than 
to  listen  to  music. 

"Let  us  play  a  game  of  quoits/'  said  he. 
"  This  meadow  is  a  fine  open  space  for  throwing 
the  discus." 

"  It  is  very  warm  for  such  a  game/'  said 
Apollo. 

But  nothing  else  would  please  Hyacinthus, 
and  so  the  game  began. 

Hyacinthus  threw  the  first  quoit  and  then  it 
was  Apollo's  turn. 

He  threw  the  quoit  so  high,  that  it  was  a 
long  time  coming  down. 

Hyacinthus  ran  to  catch  it. 

It  fell  to  the  earth  with  great  force.  It 
bounded  up  again  just  as  Hyacinthus  was  stoop- 
ing for  it. 

It  struck  the  poor  boy  on  the  forehead,  and 
he  fell  down  dead. 

Apollo  ran  to  him.  He  lifted  his  head  on  his 
knee. 

He  cried  bitterly.  His  tears  mingled  with 
the  blood  that  flowed  from  the  wound  on  to  the 
ground. 

"  Oh,  my  poor  boy  !  My  dear  Hyacinthus !  " 
he  cried. 


APOLLO   AND   HYACINTHUS 


43 


"  What  shall  I  do  ?  I  cannot  bring  you  back 
to  life. 

"  But  you  shall  live  in  the  form  of  a  beautiful 
flower.  And  every  one  that  sees  you  shall  re- 
member how  much  I  loved  you." 

And  as  he  spoke,  there  grew  out  of  the 
very  spot  where  the  boy  had  fallen,  a  lovely 
Hyacinth. 

Do  you  know  the  Hyacinth  when  you  see  it  ? 
Does  it  not  smell  sweet  ? 


44 


AUTUMN    STOKIES    AND   POEMS 


STORY   OF   PHAETHON 


Here  is  Apollo  driving  the  car  of  the  siiii 
through  the  sky. 

How  wild  the  horses  are !  How  they  seem 
to  rear  and  plunge  ! 

And  yet  how  lightly  he  holds  the  reins ! 

They  know  their  master.  They  obey  the 
lightest  touch  of  his  hand. 

But  what  if  some  one  else  should  dare  to 
drive  them ! 

How  they  would  pull  on  the  bit,  and  stamp 
and  fret ! 

There  was  once  a  young  man  who  was   so 


STORY   OF  PHAETHON  45 

bold  as  to  think  that  he  could  drive  these  fiery 
horses. 

This  was  Phaetlion,  the  son  of  Apollo. 

He  lived  on  the  earth  with  his  mother.  He 
saw  his  father  only  from  a  great  distance. 

He  was  very  proud  of  having  so  mighty  a 
father. 

But  his  companions  jeered  at  him. 

'^  We  do  not  believe  that  it  is  true,"  they 
said.     "  He  never  comes  to  see  you." 

But  his  mother  said :  ''  Wait,  my  son,  until 
you  are  tall  and  strong.  Then  you  may 
go  to  find  your  father  in  the  palace  of  sun- 
rise." 

Day  after  day  passed,  and  Phaethon  grew 
impatient. 

At  last,  one  day,  his  mother  said,  "  Go,  my 
son  ;  now  is  the  time." 

All  that  day,  and  all  the  night,  he  travelled 
to  the  east.  Before  daybreak  he  came  to  the 
palace  of  Apollo. 

The  great  king  was  sitting  on  a  throne  of 
gold  and  diamonds. 

He  wore  on  his  head  a  crown  of  sunbeams. 

On  his  right  hand  stood  the  Days,  the  Months, 
the  Years. 


46  AUTUMN   STORIES   AND   POEMS 

On  his  left  hand  stood  the  Seasons. 

There  was  Spring,  with  a  wreath  of  flowers 
on  her  head.  Summer  had  her  arms  full  of 
grain.  Autumn  carried  a  basket  of  fruit. 
Winter's  curls  were  glistening  icicles. 

Phaethon  was  so  dazzled  by  the  bright  light, 
that  he  had  to  shade  his  eyes  with  his  hand. 

Apollo  saw  the  young  man,  and  knew  him  to 
be  his  son. 

He  laid  aside  his  crown  of  sunbeams  and 
stepped  down  from  his  throne. 

Taking  Phaethon  in  his  arms,  he  called  him 
his  son,  and  kissed  him. 

"  Oh,  my  father  !  "  cried  Phaethon,  "  if  I  am 
indeed  your  son,  give  me  something  to  show 
that  I  belong  to  you." 

^^Ask  what  you  will,  my  child,  and  I  shall 
grant  it." 

Phaethon  did  not  have  to  think  twice  about 
what  he  wanted.  He  had  long  ago  made  up 
his  mind  what,  in  all  the  world,  he  would  most 
like  to  do, 

"  Let  me  drive  the  sun-car  through  the  sky, 
just  for  one  day.  Father,"  said  he. 

Apollo  was  very  sorry  when  he  heard  this. 

"Listen,  my  son,"  said  he,  '^no  one  but  my- 


STORY   OF  PHAETHO^T  47 

self  can  do  that,  not  even  Jupiter,  the  king  of 
all  the  gods. 

"  How  can  you,  who  are  only  mortal,  hope  to 
do  it? 

"  The  horses  are  wild  and  the  road  is  steep. 

"  First  it  goes  up  and  up,  so  that  the  horses 
can  scarcely  climb  it. 

"  The  middle  of  the  way  is  so  high  that  you 
dare  not  look  down  upon  the  earth,  far  below 
you. 

"  The  last  part  is  down  such  a  steep  hill  that 
you  are  in  danger  of  falling  headlong." 

He  told  him,  too,  of  the  monsters  of  the  sky; 
the  Great  Bear,  the  Scorpion,  the  Lion. 

But  Phaethon  would  not  be  satisfied  with 
anything  else.  And,  as  Apollo  had  promised,  it 
had  to  be  so. 

By  this  time  the  Dawn  had  opened  the  doors 
of  the  East. 

The  horses  were  led  from  the  stable  and  har- 
nessed to  the  sun-car. 

This  was  made  of  gold  and  diamonds. 

The  wheels  were  of  gold,  with  spokes  of 
silver. 

The  horses  breathed  fire  from  their  great 
nostrils. 


48 


AUTUMN   STORIES   AND   POEMS 


When  all  was  ready,  Apollo  placed  the  crown 
of  sunbeams  on  the  head  of  Phaethon. 

He  put  in  his  hand  the  reins  and  the  whip. 
He  gave  him  this  advice :  — 

"Do  not  go  too  high,  or  you  will  set  heaven  on 
fire.    Do  not  go  too  low  or  you  will  burn  the  earth. 

"  Keep  to  the  middle  path ;  you  will  see  the 
deep  ruts  that  the  car  has  made." 

But  Phaethon  was  in  a  hurry  to  be  off. 

With  a  light  touch  of  the  whip  and  a  gay 
shout,  he  started. 

But  the  horses  soon  missed  the  strong  hand 
cf  their  master. 


They  plunged  and  reared. 
They  left  the  beaten  track. 
They  went  up  so  high  in   heaven    that    the 
Great  Bear  was  scorched  with  heat. 


STORY   OF  PIIAETHON  49 

When  Phaethon  looked  down  upon  the  earth 
from  that  great  height,  he  grew  pale  with  fear, 
and  his  knees  shook. 

The  reins  fell  from  his  hands. 

The  horses  plunged  down  the  steep  path 
toward  the  earth. 

The  clouds^  began  to  smoke. 

The  mountain  tops  were  set  on  fire. 

The  rivers  were  dried  up  and  mountains  be- 
came deserts. 

The  people  of  Africa  were  burnt  black. 

Even  Neptune,  who  lives  in  the  sea,  cried  out 
in  terror. 

All  the  people  called  upon  Jupiter  to  save 
them. 

Jupiter  looked  down  from  Olympus.  He  saw 
that  something  had  to  be  done  quickly  or  the 
world  would  be  burnt  up. 

Taking  a  thunderbolt  in  his  hand,  he  hurled 
it  against  Phaethon  and  killed  him. 

The  unhappy  boy  fell  from  the  car.  Down, 
down,  he  went  like  a  shooting  star.  At  last 
he  sank  into  a  great  river. 

The  horses,  snorting  and  foaming,  found  their 
way  back  to  their  house  in  the  East. 


50  AUTUMN   STORIES   AND   POEMS 

TO   APOLLO 

God  of  the  golden  bow, 

And  of  the  golden  lyre, 
And  of  the  golden  hair, 
And  of  the  golden  fire, 

Charioteer 
Round  the  patient  year  ! 

Who  —  who  did  dare 
To  tie  for  a  moment  thy  plant  round  his  bow  ? 
0  Delphic  Apollo ! 

—Keats. 


IRIS 


You  have  often  seen  the  rainbow.  But  I  am  not 
sure  that  you  have  ever  seen  Iris  riding  over  it. 

Iris  is  the  daughter  of  Apollo  and  a  beautiful 
nymph  called  Water-Drop . 

She  carries  all  the  messages  and  runs  on  all 
the  errands  for  Juno,  the  wife  of  Jupiter. 

When  she  is  in  a  very  great  hurry,  a  bridge 
is  thrown  down.  It  connects  the  dwelling  of 
the  gods  and  the  earth. 

Then  Iris  wraps  herself  in  a  rosy-colored 
cloud. 


IRIS 


51 


She  puts   on  a  necklace  of  raindrops  given  to 
her  by  her  mother. 

She    steps    into    her    chariot 
drawn 


touches  them 
with 


away 


First,  up  and  up,  then  down  and  down,  over 
the  beautiful  colored  arch. 

When  she  returns,  the  bridge  is  drawn  up. 
For  no  one  may  use  it  but  Iris. 


52  AUTUMN  STORIES  AND  POEMS 

At  the  end  of  this  rainbow  bridge  is  planted 
a  pot  of  gold. 

On  another  day  I  shall  tell  you  how  this  pot 
of  gold  was  stolen,  and  of  the  strange  way  in 
which  it  was  found. 

Ever  since  that  time,  Iris  has  soldiers  stand- 
ing near  to  guard  it. 

They  wear  blue  cloaks.  Their  swords  are 
always  drawn  and  pointing  to  the  sky. 

I  wonder  if  you  have  ever  come  across  any 
of  these  soldiers. 

They  like  to  camp  near  the  water. 

The  next  time  Iris  throws  her  bridge  across 
the  sky,  look  very  closely.  Maybe  you  will 
catch  a  glimpse  of  her. 


THE  RAINBOW 

My  heart  leaps  up  when  I  behold 
A  rainl30W  in  the  sky ; 

So  was  it  when  my  life  began  ; 

So  is  it  now  I  am  a  man ; 

So  be  it  when  I  shall  grow  old, 
Or  let  me  die  ! 


-  Wordsworth. 


IF   I   WERE   A   SUNBEAM  53 

IF  I   WERE  A   SUNBEAM 

"  If  I  were  a  sunbeam 

I  know  what  Fd  do : 
I  would  seek  white  lilies 

Rainy  woodlands  through. 
I  would  steal  among  them, 

Softest  light  I'd  shed, 
Until  every  lily 

Raised  its  drooping  head. 

"  If  I  were  a  sunbeam, 

I  know  where  Fd  go : 
Into  lowliest  hovels, 

Dark  with  want  and  woe : 
Till  sad  hearts  looked  upward, 

I  would  shine  and  shine ; 
Then  they'd  think  of  heaven. 

Their  sweet  home  and  mine." 

Art  thou  not  a  sunbeam, 

Child  whose  life  is  glad 
With  an  inner  radiance 

Sunshine  never  had  ? 
Oh,  as  God  has  blessed  thee, 

Scatter  rays  divine ! 

For  there  is  no  sunbeam 

But  must  die  or  shine. 

—  Lucy  Larcom. 


THE  MOON 


DIANA 

The  sun-car  has  passed  through  the  gates  of 
the  west. 

They  are  shut  softly  behind  it,  and  the  bright 
light  fades  away. 

The  lilies  in  the  pond  fold  their  leaves  tightly. 

All  the  little  flowers  go  to  sleep. 

The  birds  cuddle  down  in  their  soft  nests,  and 
tuck  their  heads  under  their  wings. 

The  last  little  drowsy  ^^pee-weep"  is  heard,, 
then  all  is  quiet. 

Now  something  conies  stealing  out  of  the 
darkness. 

Softly,  softly,  it  travels  on.  So  softly  that  it 
does  not  waken  any  of  the  sleeping  things. 

It  is  Diana,  the  goddess  of  the  moon,  in  her 
silver  car. 

See  the  crescent  above  her  forehead,  and  the 
soft  hair  flowing  on  her  shoulders ! 

64 


DIANAr  55 

On  her  back  is  her  quiver  full  of  arrows. 
Last  evening,  as  she  rode  past  your  window. 


she  glanced  in.  She  smiled,  for  there  you  were 
asleep,  with  your  curly  head  where  your  feet 
should  have  been. 


56  AUTUMN    STORIES    AND    POEMS 


DIANA   AND   ENDYMION 

One    calm    clear    night    Diana   was    slowly 
driving  her  silver  chariot  through  the  sky. 


She  looked  down  upon  the  earth.  She  saw 
this  beautiful  youth  Endymion  just  as  you  see 
him  in  the  picture. 


DIANA   AND    F.XDYMION  57 

He  was  asleep.  His  head  had  fallen  forward 
on  his  breast.     His  arm  was  haiiguig  at  his  side. 

I  think  he  did  not  mean  to  go  to  sleep^  but  he 
was  very  tired. 

He  was  a  shepherd.  Do  you  see  his  staff,  and 
his  faithful  dog  ? 

I  wonder  why  dogs  like  to  bay  at  the  moon  ? 

Diana  loved  him  dearly  because  he  was  so 
beautiful. 

Every  night  as  he  slept,  she  slipped  down 
from  her  path  in  the  sky  to  watch  over  him. 

This  was  soon  found  out  in  Olympus,  and 
Jupiter  said  that  Endymion  must  die. 

But  Diana  begged  for  his  life. 

'^So  let  it  be/'  said  Jupiter,  ^'he  shall  live 
forever  but  he  shall  sleep  forever.'' 

And  still  he  is  young  and  beautiful,  and  still 
he  sleeps. 

But  who  takes  care  of  his  flocks,  you  may  ask  ? 

Diana,  the  queen  of  the  moon. 


THE   BABY  AND   THE   MOON 


"  Lady  Moon,  Lady  Moon, 


58 


THE   HOTTENTOT  MOON  STORY 


59 


"  Baby-kin,  Baby-kin,  down  far  below, 
I  hear  thee  calling,  yet  I  cannot  go." 

But  Lady  Moon  sendeth  thee  soft,  shining  rays. 
'^  Moon  loves  the  Baby,"  the  Moonlight  says. 

In  her  house  dark  and  blue  though  she  must  stay, 
Kindly  she  will  watch  thee,  till  dawns  the  new 

day.  — From  Froebel. 


THE   HOTTENTOT 
MOON   STORY 

The  little  Hottentot 
boy  lives  in  Africa. 

He  has  a  skin  as 
brown  as  your  leather 
school  bag. 

Instead  of  washing 
his  face,  he  smears  it 
with  grease  to  make  it 
shine. 

His  lips  are  thick  and 
his  nose  is  flat. 

No  comb  could  pass  through 
the  black,  woolly  curls  on  his 
head. 


60  AUTUMN   STORIES   AND   POEMS 

Perhaps  you  do  not  think  from  this  account 
that  he  is  very  pretty. 

But  his  mother  thinks  he  is  the  sweetest  thing 
that  ever  was  born. 

^\nen  he  asks  her  to  tell  him  a  story,  she 
tells  him  strange  tales  of  the  sun  and  moon  and 
stars,  and  of  the  curious  things  on  earth. 

Hare  is  a  story  that  she  told  him  about  the 
moon:  — 

One  day  the  moon  said  to  the  hare,  "  Go  to 
the  earth.     Tell  the  people  that,  just  as  I  rise 
again  after  dying  away,  so  shall 
they  die  and  again  come  to  life.' 
But    the    stupid    hare   did   not 
carry  the  kind  message  right. 

He  told  the  people  that  the  moon 

boasted  that  she  rose  again,  but 

—     that  they  died   forever. 

When  the  moon  heard 

this,  she  was  very  angry. 

She  took  up  an  axe  to  cut  oif 

the  hare's  head. 

But  the  axe  missed  and  only 
cut  his  ]ip  open.  Ever  since  that  time  all  the 
hare's  children  have  a  "hare  lip." 


THE   HOTTENTOT  MOON  STORY 


61 


The  hare,  maddened  by  the  pain,  flew  at  the 
moon  and  almost  scratched  her  eyes  out. 

The  black  scars  on  the  moon's  face  are  the 
marks  of  the  hare's  claws. 


62 


AUTUMN   STORIES  AND   POEMS 


YUM   SING 


Poor  little  Yum  Sing  is  crying ! 
See  how  the  tears  are  running  out  of  the  cor- 
ners of  his  little  slanting  eyes ! 

I  hope  they  will  not 
spoil  the  color  of  his 
pretty  yellow  face. 

But  did  you  ever  see 
such  a  funny  little  shaved 
head ! 

There  is  just  one  lock 
left  on  top ! 

It     is     hardly     long 

^  enough  to  braid,  but  his 

mother   has  tried   hard 

to  do  it. 

When  it  has  grown  long  it  will  hang  down 

his  back  like  a  long  black  tail. 

Let  me  tell  you  what  is  the  matter  with  Yum 
Sing. 

His  mother,  Mrs.  Pitti  Sing,  is  sending  him 
to  bed  without  his  supper. 

I  am  afraid  that  she  has  given  his  pig-tail  a 
sharp  little  pull. 


YUM   SING  63 

And  all  because  he  did  not  use  his  chop-sticks 
nicely,  as  she  told  him  to. 

So  he  spilled  his  rice  on  his  new  blue 
blouse ! 

As  he  lay  in  bed,  the  moon  shone  down  on 
him  gently.  It  almost  seemed  to  be  sorry  for 
him. 

He  was  very  hungry  and  very  unhappy. 

He  looked  up  at  the  kind  moon.  He  began 
to  wonder  if  it  was  supper-time  up  there,  and 
whether  they  liked  rice. 

All  at  once  a  little  hand  touched  him,  and  a 
kind  voice  said  :  — 

"  Here,  dear  Yum  Sing,  I  have  brought  you 
a  bowl  of  rice.  The  little  rabbit  in  the  moon 
sent  it  to  you." 

'^Oh!  Is  there  a  rabbit  in  the  moon?''  said 
Yum  Sing. 

"  Why,  yes.  Can  you  not  see  him  from  here 
pounding  his  rice  in  a  bowl  ?  " 

Little  Yum  Sing  forgot  that  he  was  hungry. 
He  jumped  out  of  bed  and  ran  to  the  win- 
dow. 

There  he  flattened  his  little  yellow  nose  — 
that  was  already  flat  enough  —  against  the 
pane. 


64 


AUTUMN   STORIES   AND   POEMS 


I  wonder  if  you  ina(3e  your  nose  very  flat 
against  the  window-pane  if  you  could  see  the 
rabbit  ? 


Yum  Sing  did. 


^  -^^r 


/    >..rr^'^^ 


tt^ 


GERMAN  STORY  OF  THE   MOON 


65 


GERMAN   STORY   OF   THE  MOON 

"  Tell  me  about  the  man  in  the  moon. 
Mother/'  said  Gretchen,  as  her  mother  was 
brushing  her  long,  yellow  braids. 

"  He  was  a  wicked  man  who  would  gather 
fagots  on  the  Sabbath.  So  he  was  put  up  in 
the  moon.  There  he  was  to  stand  forever  with 
a  bundle  of  sticks  on  his  back." 


66  AUTUMN  STORIES  AND  POEMS 


ICELANDIC  STORY  OF  THE  MOON 


\     ' 

\\\^ 


-^^J 


<^"-^, 


"  Jack  and  Jill  went  up  the  hill 
To  get  a  pail  of  water ; 
Jack  fell  down  and  broke  his  crown, 
And  Jill  came  tumbling  after." 

Poor  little  Jack  and  Jill  were  picked  up  by 
the  moon. 

She  wiped  Jill's  tears,  and  patched  Jack's 
crown. 


ICELANDIC   STORY   OF  THE   MOON 


67 


Then,  taking  one  under  each  arm,  she  flew  up 
to  the  sky  again. 

There  they  draw  water  for  her.  Sometimes 
their  bucket  tilts  over,  and  the  water  spills. 

Then  the  people  on  earth  put  up  their  um- 
brellas. 


few.      •>/^^:^c  y;  / 


68 


AUTUMN   STORIES   AND   POEMS 


What  do  you  see  in  the  Moon? 

#j#,  ^  Ae.  ^  «u.  uf. 

^  T?*  ^f*  -7^  ^F  ^ 

0  MOON !  in  the  night  I  have  seen  you  sailing 

And  shining  so  round  and  low ; 
You  were  bright !  ah,  bright !  but  your  light  is 
failing ; 

You  are  nothing  now  but  a  bow. 


You  moon,  have  you  done  something  wrong  in 
heaven, 
That  God  has  hidden  your  face  ? 
I  hope  if  you  have,  you  will  soon  be  forgiven, 
And  shine  again  in  your  place. 

—  Jean  Ingelow. 


WINTER  STORIES  AND  POEMS 


Winter 


PREPAEATION  FOR  WINTER 


THE  ANT   AND   THE   GRASSHOPPER 

All  summer  long  the  ants  gathered  grain 
and  carried  it  to  their  nests. 

One  fine  day  in  winter  they  took  it  out  to  dry. 

A  poor  starving  grasshopper  saw  them  at 
work.  He  begged  them  to  give  him  a  little 
food. 

The  ants  asked  him  why  he  had  not  saved 
food  during  the  summer. 

He  said^  "1  did  not  have  time  enough.  I 
sang  all  day  long." 

The  ants  laughed  at  him,  and  said*:  — 

"  You  were  foolish  to  sing  all  summer.  No 
wonder  that  you  have  gone  to  bed  without  a 
supper  all  winter." 

—  Adapted  from  ^sop. 
71 


72  WINTER   STORIES  AND  POEMS 


THE  KIND   OLD   OAK 

It  was  almost  time  for  winter  to  come. 

The  little  birds  had  all  gone  far  away,  for 
they  were  afraid  of  the  cold. 

There  was  no  green  grass  in  the  fields. 
There  were  no  pretty  flowers  in  the  garden. 

Many  of  the  trees  had  dropped  all  their  leaves. 
Cold  winter,  with  its  snow  and  ice,  was  coming. 

At  the  foot  of  an  old  oak-tree,  some  sweet 
little  violets  were  still  in  blossom. 

"Dear  old  oak,"  said  they,  "winter  is  com- 
ing. We  are  afraid  that  we  shall  die  of  the 
cold." 

"  Do  not  be  afraid,  little  ones,"  said  the  oak. 
"Close  your  yellow  eyes  in  sleep  and  trust  to 
me.  You  have  made  me  glad  many  a  time 
with  your  sweetness.  Now  I  shall  take  care 
that  the  winter  may  do  you  no  harm." 

So  the  violets  closed  their  pretty  eyes  and 
went  to  sleep.  They  knew  that  they  could 
trust  the  kind  old  oak. 

And  the  great  tree  softly  dropped  red  leaf 
after  red  leaf  upon  them  until  they  were  all 
covered  over. 


LEAVES   AT   PLAY  73 

The  cold  winter  came  with  its  snow  and  ice. 
But  it  could  not  harm  the  little  violets. 

Safe  under  the  friendly  leaves  of  the  old  oak, 
they  slept  and  dreamed  happy  dreams,  until 
the  warm  rains  of  spring  came  and  waked  them 
again. 


LEAVES   AT   PLAY 

Scamper,  little  leaves,  about 

In  the  autumn  sun ; 
I  can  hear  the  old  Wind  shout, 

Laughing  as  you  run. 
And  I  haven't  any  doubt 

That  he  likes  the  fun. 


NT 


When  you've  run  a  month  or  so, 

Very  tired  you'll  get ; 
But  the  same  old  Wind,  I  know, 

Will  be  laughing  yet 
When  he  tucks  you  in  your  snow, 

Downy  coverlet. 

So  run  on  and  have  your  play, 
Romp  with  all  your  might ; 

Dance  across  the  autumn  day, 
While  the  sun  is  bright. 

Soon  you'll  hear  the  old  Wind  say, 
"  Little  leaves,  good-night !  " 

j_.  — Frank  Dempster  Sherman 


<s^ 


74 


THE   BROKEN   WING  76 


THE  BROKEN  WING 

Six  little  eagles  lived  in  a  nest  with  their 
father  and  mother. 

One  evening  the  old  birds  did  not  come  home. 

They  had  been  killed  by  the  gun  of  the  hunter. 

The  young  ones  did  not  know  this. 

They  had  never  been  out  of  their  soft  nest. 
They  had  never  even  heard  of  the  cruel  things 
that  are  done  in  the  big  world. 

But  they  felt  very  lonely  and  very  hungry. 

All  night  they  cuddled  close  to  each  other, 
and  the  baby  cried  pitifully. 

When  morning  came.  Strong  Wing,  the 
oldest,  said  to  them  :  — 

"Brothers  and  sisters,  I  am  afraid  that  our 
dear  parents  will  never  come  back  again.  I 
must  take  their  place. 

"Be  good  children  while  I  go  to  find  some 
breakfast  for  you." 

Soon  he  came  back  with  a  nice  fat  duck ! 

As  the  days  went  by,  he  taught  the  younger 
ones  how  to  fly,  and  where  to  find  good  dinners. 

But  one  sad  day  Strong  Wing  did  not  come 
home. 


76  WINTER   STORIES  AND   POEMS 

Once  more  the  little  family  were  in  sorrow. 

The  next  day  they  started  to  look  for  their 
kind  brother. 

They  flew  high  and  low  and  called  and  called 
him. 

At  last  they  heard  a  faint  cry,  and  there  was 
Strong  Wing ! 

He  was  not  able  to  fly,  for  one  of  his  strong 
wings  was  broken. 

What  a  misfortune ! 

For  you  must  know  that  this  little  family 
had  meant  to  move  in  a  few  days  to  a  new 
house  in  a  warmer  land. 

"  You  must  still  go/'  said  Broken  Wing,  ^^for 
the  winter  will  kill  you." 

"And  leave  you!''  said  they.  "No,  indeed! 
You  cared  for  us  when  we  were  little  and  help- 
less.    Now  we  will  care  for  you." 

So  they  found  a  hollow  place  in  the  trunk  of  a 
tree.     There  they  placed  their  wounded  brother. 

Then  they  gathered  in  a  large  store  of  things 
to  eat  for  the  winter. 

Two  of  them  did  go  to  the  warm  South. 

They  loved  their  brother  as  much  as  the 
others.  But  they  said:  "  If  two  hungry  mouths 
go  away,  the  food  will  last  longer." 


THE   BROKEN   WING 


77 


Everything  went  well. 

Broken  Wing  became  Strong  Wing  again. 

The  little  baby  eagle  had  now  almost  grown 
up.  He  used  to  go  in  search  of  food  like  the 
others. 

But  he  never  brought 
anything  home  I 

"The  big  owl  that 
lives  in  the  tree  near  by 
takes  it  from  me/'  he 
cried. 

The  next  day  Strong 
Wing  went  with  him. 

He  watched  the  young- 
ster catch  a  fat,  white 
duck  and  soar  up  with 
it. 

True  enough !  Just 
as  he  was  near  home, 
the  owl  flew  out. 

But  Strong  Wing  was  "Fleet  Wing,"  too. 

He  struck  his  talons  in  the  back  of  Mr   Owl. 

"  Oh !  Oh !  Let  me  go,  and  I  shall  never 
do  it  any  more ! "  cried  the  owl. 

"  Do  you  promise  ?  "  said  Strong  Wing. 

"Yes!     Yes!"  said  the  owl. 


78 


WINTER   STORIES   AND   POEMS 


Then  Strong  Wing  let  him  go^  first  telling 
him  what  herbs  would  cure  his  sore  back. 

Maybe  Baby  Eagle  was  not  proud  to  throw 
down  his  fat,  white  duck  on  the  table ! 

Just  as  he  did  it,  company  came  for  dinner ! 

Who  was  it,  do  you  think  ? 

Why,  the  two  little  brothers  from  the  South ! 

They  had  come  home,  for  they  knew  that 
spring  was  in  the  North. 


A   BIRD   &TORY  79 


A  BIRD   STORY 


One  spring  day,  a  pair  of  birds  who  had 
never  seen  a  winter  came  to  our  fields. 

One  of  the  birds  began  to  sing.  Then  the 
other  bird  said  :  — 

"  Who  told  you  to  sing  ?  " 

He  answered :  — 

"  The  flowers  told  me,  and  the  bees  told  me. 
The  winds  and  leaves  told  me.  The  blue  sky 
told  me,  and  you  told  me." 

Then  his  mate  said  :  — 

"  When  did  I  tell  you  to  sing  ?  " 

He  answered  :  — 

"  Every  time  that  you  brought  in  grass,^  or 
hair,  or  feathers  for  the  nest.  For  I  felt  so 
happy  that  I  must  sing." 

By  and  by  there  were  five  pretty  eggs  in  the 
nest. 

Then  the  happy  birds  looked  down  at  the 
people  who  passed  by,  and  felt  sorry  for  them 
because  they  were  not  birds. 

One  day,  when  the  father  bird  came  home, 
the  mother  bird  said  :  — 

"  Oh !  what  do  you  think  has  happened  ? " 


80  WINTER   STORIES   AND   POEMS 

"  One  of  my  eggs  has  been  peeping  and 
moving!" 

Pretty  soon  another  egg  moved  under  her 
feathers,  then  another,  and  another. 

Then  the  five  little  birds  were  hatched  out. 

The  father  bird  sang  louder  than  ever. 

The  mother  bird  wanted  to  sing,  too.  But 
she  had  no  time.  So  she  turned  her  song  into 
work. 

The  little  birds  were  so  hungry,  that  it  kept 
both  parents  busy  feeding  them. 

Soon  the  little  birds  were  big  enough  to  begin 
to  fly. 

Then  they  grew  strong  enough  to  find  food. 
They  built  their  own  nests,  and  sang  their  own 
songs. 

The  old  birds  then  were  silent. 

"  Why  don't  you  sing  ?  "  said  the  mother. 

"I  can't  sing.     I  can  only  think  and  think." 

"  What  are  you  thinking  about  ?  "  she  said. 

"  I  am  thinking  how  everything  changes. 
The  leaves  are  falling,  the  flowers  are  all  going. 
Something  calls  me.  I  feel  as  if  I  would  like 
to  fly  far  away." 

"  Let  us  fly  together !  "  said  the  mother  bird. 


A  BIRD   STORY 


81 


Far  away  they 
There  they  saw 


Then  they  rose  into  the  air. 

They  looked  to  the  north, 
saw  the  snow  coming. 

They  looked  to  the  south, 
flowers  and  green  leaves. 

There  they  flew  and  flew,  until  they  came  to 
a  land  where  there  was  no  winter. 

There    flowers    always    blossom,    and    birds 
always  sing. 


THE   STARS 


THE  STAR  AND   THE  LILY 


One  evening  an  old  chief  sat  at  the  door  of 
his  wigwam  smoking  his  pipe. 

A  crowd  of  little  Indian  boys  and  girls  gath- 
ered about  him  and  begged  for  a  story. 

Tliis  is  what  he  told  them  :  — 

Once  all  the  people  were  happy.  There  was 
no  sickness  and  no  war.  The  white  man  had 
not  come. 


THE   STAR   AND -THE   LILY  83 

There  was  plenty  of  game  in  the  forest. 
There  was  plenty  of  fruit  on  the  trees. 

The  earth  was  covered  with  a  carpet  of  flow- 
ers. There  were  birds  of  more  beautiful  plum- 
age than  now. 

The  red  man  loved  the  stars.  For  he  believed 
that  in  them  the  good  people  lived  who  had 
been  taken  home  by  the  Great  Spirit. 

One  night  they  saw  a  star  that  shone  brighter 
than  all  others. 

Night  after  night,  as  they  watched  it,  it  came 
nearer  and  nearer. 

At  last  it  rested  on  the  top  of  a  tree  like  a 
beautiful  bird. 

One  morning  it  spoke  to  a  young  warrior  of 
the  tribe  and  said  :  — 

"  Young  Brave !  I  have  looked  down  upon 
your  people  for  a  long  time.  I  have  grown  to 
love  them  and  their  beautiful  land,  with  its 
flowers  and  birds  and  rivers. 

''  I  have  left  my  two  sisters  —  the  Morning 
and  Evening  stars  —  in  the  sky,  and  have  come 
to  live  with  you  forever. 

"  Ask  your  wise  men  what  form  I  shall'  take, 
and  where  I  shall  live  to  be  most  loved." 

The  star  was  asked  to  choose  for  herself. 


84 


WINTER   STORIES   AND   POEMS 


"I  know  where  I  shall  live/'  she  said  joy- 
fully,—  "  in  the  lap  of  the  watei-,  where  I  can 
see  the  gliding  canoe.  Then  I  can  kiss  the 
naked  feet  of  the  little  children  as  they  play  on 
the  bank  of  the  stream." 

With  these  words  she  flew  down  to  the  water, 
where  she  saw  herself  reflected. 

The  next  morning,  thousands  of  white  flowers 
were  seen  on  the  lake. 

Children,  when  you  see  the  water-lily,  take  it 
in  your  hands  and  hold  it  to  the  skies,  that  it 
may  see  its  sisters  in  heaven. 


THE   WHITE-BEAR  85 


SLEEP,  BABY,  SLEEP 

Sleep,  baby,  sleep ! 
Thy  father  watches  his  sheep ; 
Thy  mother  is  shaking  the  dreamland  tree, 
And  down  falls  a  little  dream  on  thee  — 
Sleep,  baby,  sleep ! 

Sleep,  baby,  sleep ! 
The  large  stars  are  the  sheep ; 
The  little  stars  are  the  lambs,  I  guess, 
And  the  bright  moon  is  the  shepherdess  — 
Sleep,  baby,  sleep ! 


THE  WHITE   BEAR 


There  was  once  a  beautiful  woman  named 
Callisto.     She  was  dearly  loved  by  Jupiter. 

She  had  a  dear  little  son  called  Areas.  He 
was  her  pride  and  joy. 

But  still  she  loved  the  forests  and  the  woods, 
the  trees  and  the  birds,  almost  as  much. 

With  her  dogs  at  her  heels,  and  her  quiver  of 


86  WINTER   STORIES   AND   POEMS 

arrows  across  her  shoulder^  she  hunted  the  wild 
deer  and  the  fierce  bear. 

When  she  went  to  the  chase  with  her  com- 
panionSj  she  was  the  merriest  of  the  party. 

One  day  as  she  was  going  gayly  through  the 
forest,  she  met  the  jealous  Juno,  who  hated 
her. 

Juno  stood  still,  raised  her  hand,  and  said 
some  strange  words. 

Then  a  terrible  thing  happened  to  poor  Cal- 
listo. 

Her  arms  grew  shaggy,  and  were  covered 
with  hair. 

Her  nails  grew  into  pointed  claws. 

Her  hands  turned  to  paws  and  she  had  to 
stand  on  all  fours. 

Her  beautiful  mouth  that  was  always  smil- 
ing wore  an  ugly  grin. 

Her  sweet  voice  was  changed  to  the  fierce 
growl  of  a  hungry  bear. 

Poor  Callisto ! 

Now  she  runs  from  her  own  dogs  in  terror. 

But  she  runs  from  the  bears,  too ;  for  she  for- 
gets that  she  is  herself  a  bear. 

More  than  all  does  she  grieve  for  her  dear 
little  son  Areas. 


THE   WHITE   BEAR  87 

For  although  she  had  a  bear's  body,  she  still 
had  a  loving  human  heart. 

She  would  never  see  him  again ! 

Even  if  she  met  him,  the  child  would  be 
frightened  if  she  tried  to  hug  him. 

Nobody  wants  a  hug  from  a  bear! 

So  the  years  went  by,  and  poor  Callisto  lived 
hidden  in  the  forest. 


THE  WHITE   BEAR 
II 

These  years  had  changed  Areas  from  a  little 
boy  to  a  young  man. 

Like  his  mother,  he  was  very  fond  of  hunt- 
ing. 

One  day  he  followed  a  deer  into  the  forest. 

All  at  once,  he  found  himself  in  front  of  a 
great  white  bear. 

He  lifted  his  spear  to  pierce  its  heart. 

But  the  eyes  of  the  bear  looked  at  him  so 
sadly  and  so  lovingly,  that  he  did  not  strike  the 
blow. 

Just  then  Jupiter  appeared,  and  snatched  the 
spear  from  his  hand. 


88  WINTER   STORIES  AND   POEMS 

The  great  god  carried  both  the  mother  and 
son  up  to  the  starry  sky. 

There  he  put  them  in  the  heavens  to  shine 
forever. 

Now  the  people  on  earth  look  up  to  the  sky 
and  say,  "  There  is  the  Great  Bear,  and  there  is 
the  Little  Bear." 


To  Areas,  the  Little  Bear,  Jupiter  gave  a  great 
work  to  do. 

He  holds  in  its  place  the  star  which  guides 
all  travellers  on  their  way,  —  the  wonderful 
North  Star. 

If  you  should  try  to  find  the  Great  Bear  in 


THE    WHITE   BEAR  89 

the  sky  some  starry  night,  I  am  afraid  that  you 
will  not  see  anytliing  that  looks  like  a  bear. 

But  you  will  see  something  that  looks  like  a 
great  dipper.  There  are  three  bright  stars  in 
the  handle,  and  four  bright  stars  in  the  cup. 
This  is  Callisto. 

Not  far  from  her  is  Areas,  looking,  for  all  the 
world,  like  a  small  dipper. 


•  *  Pole  Star 
Little  Dipper 


i^       * 
*    ^ 


Great  Dipper 


THE   BIRDS 


BLUE  JAY 


^'  What,  is  the  jay  more  precious  than  the  lark, 
Because  his  feathers  are  more  beautiful  ?  '' 

—  Shakespeare. 
90 


THE   CHICKADEE 


91 


CHICKADEE 


"  Then  piped  a  tiny  voice  hard  by, 
Gay  and  polite,  a  cheerful  cry, 
Chick-a-dee-dee !  saucy  note 
Out  of  sound  heart  and  merry  throat 
As  if  it  said,  Good  day,  good  sir ! 
Fine  afternoon,  old  passenger! 
Happy  to  meet  you  in  these  places 
Where  January  brings  few  faces." 

—  Ralph  Waldo  Emerson. 


92  WINTER   STORIES  AND   POEMS 


STORY   OF   THE  PEACOCK 

Jupiter  dearly  loved  beautiful  lo. 

She  lived  all  alone  on  the  bank  of  a  river. 

Often  she  bathed  in  its  cool  waters. 

When  she  plunged  in,  the  little  waves  and 
ripples  played  about  her  as  if  they  loved  her. 

Then,  as  she  combed  and  braided  her  long 
hair,  she  used  the  smooth  waters  for  a  mirror. 

They  showed  her  her  own  sweet  face  and 
seemed  to  say  "  Pretty  lo,"  "  Pretty  lo." 

Juno  was  as  cruel  to  lo  as  she  had  been 
to  Latona. 

She  came  down  to  the  bank  of  the  river 
where  lo  lived,  meaning  to  do  her  some  harm. 

But  instead  of  a  pretty  young  girl,  she  saw 
only  a  gentle  white  cow  grazing. 

Juno  could  not  understand  it ! 

There  it  was,  slowly  munching  the  sweet 
grass,  and  hunting  with  its  pink  nostrils  for  the 
purple  clover. 

Its  hide  was  white  and  glossy. 

Its  long  horns  were  curved  like  the  crescent 
of  the  moon. 

It  looked  at  Juno  with  eyes  as  soft  as  her  own. 


STORY  OF  THE   PEACOCK  93 

^^This  is  very  strange/'  said  Jimo.  "I  must 
put  Argus  to  watch  this  animal." 

Now  Argus  had  a  hundred  eyes  in  his  head ! 

So,  if  he  went  to  sleep  with  two  eyes,  as 
watchmen  sometimes  do,  he  still  had  ninety- 
eight  eyes  wide  open ! 

All  day  long  he  let  the  white  cow  graze. 
At  night  he  put  a  rope  around  her  neck,  and 
fastened  her  to  a  stake. 

Now  I  must  whisper  in  your  ear  a  secret ! 

The  gentle  white  cow  was  no  other  than 
beautiful  lo  herself ! 

Jupiter  had  changed  her  into  this  shape  so 
that  Juno  would  not  find  her. 

But  Juno,  who  was  very  wise,  guessed  who  it 
was  that  the  white  cow  hid. 

Poor  lo  was  very  unhappy  under  the  gaze  of 
all  those  eyes. 

She  sometimes  tried  to  put  out  her  arms  to 
Argus  to  beg  him  to  let  her  go,  but  she  had  no 
arms. 

Then  she  tried  to  speak  to  him,  but  she  could 
only  "  moo  "  sadly. 

At  last  Jupiter  told  Mercury  the  secret  that  I 
have  told  you,  and  sent  him  to  set  lo  free. 

Mercury  dressed  himself  like  a  shepherd,  took 


94 


WINTER   STORIES   AND   POEMS 


his  flute  and  as  he  walked  along  the  road  played 
a  tune  upon  it. 

"  Come  here,  young  shepherd/'  called  Argus. 
"  Sit  with  me  under  the  trees,  and  give  me  some 
music.'' 


Mercury  sat  down  and  played  the  sweetest 
lullaby  that  ever  was  heard. 

A  "  lullaby,"  you  know,  is  what  mother  sings 
to  put  baby's  two  pretty  eyes  to  sleep. 


THE   CROW'S  XHILDREN  95 

Well,  sure  enough,  one  after  another  of  the 
hundred  eyes  of  Argus  grew  blinky  and  drowsy. 
At  last  all  were  asleep. 

Then  up  jumped  Mercury  and  killed  the  cruel 
monster,  and  set  lo  free. 

Juno  was  sorry  for  her  watchman.  So  she 
saved  his  eyes  and  put  them  in  the  tail  of  her 
peacock. 


THE   CROW'S   CHILDREN 

A  HUNTSMAN,  bearing  his  gun  afield, 

Went  whistling  merrily, 
When  he  heard  the  blackest  of  black  crows 

Call  out  from  a  withered  tree :  — 

"  You  are  going  to  kill  the  thievish  birds, 

And  I  would  if  I  were  you ; 
But  you  mustn't  touch  my  family, 

Whatever  else  you  do  !  " 

"  But  how  shall  I  know  which  ones  they  are  ? 

Do  they  resemble  you  ?  " 
,"  Oh,  no,"  said  the  crow,  "they're  the  prettiest 
birds. 

And  the  whitest  that  ever  flew  !  " 


96  WINTER   STORIES   AND   POEMS 

So  off  went  the  sportsman,  whistling. 

And  off,  too,  went  his  gun ; 
And  its  startling  echoes  never  ceased 

Again  till  the  day  was  done. 

And  the  old  crow  sat  untroubled. 

Cawing  away  in  her  nook ; 
For  she  said,  ''  He'll  never  kill  my  birds, 

Since  I  told  him  how  they  look." 

When,  lo  !  she  saw  the  hunter 
Taking  his  homeward  track. 

With  a  string  of  crows  as  long  as  his  gun 
Hanging  down  his  back. 

"Alack,  alack!"  said  the  mother, 
"  What  in  the  world  have  you  done  ? 

You  promised  to  spare  my  pretty  birds. 
And  you've  killed  them  every  one." 

"  Your  birds  !  "  said  the  puzzled  hunter ; 

"  Why,  I  found  them  in  my  corn ; 
And,  besides,  they  are  black  and  ugly 

As  any  ever  were  born!  " 

"  Get  out  of  my  sight,  you  stupid ! " 

Said  the  angriest  of  crows ; 
"  How  good  and  fair  the  children  are. 

There's  none  but  a  parent  knows !  " 


INDIAN   STORY   OF  THE   EAGLE  97 

"Ah !  I  see,  I  see/'  said  the  hunter, 

"  But  not  as  you  do,  quite ; 
It  takes  a  mother  to  be  so  blind 

She  can't  tell  black  from  white  !  " 

—  Phoebe  Gary. 


INDIAN   STORY   OF   THE  EAGLE 

Perhaps  Jupiter  liked  the  eagle  for  the  same 
reason  that  Uncle  Sam  does.  He  is  brave  and 
soars  high. 

The  Indians  loved  the  eagle,  too. 

Their  bravest  chiefs  wore  the  eagle's  feathers 
in  their  hair  when  they  went  to  battle. 

They  say  that  one  day  all  the  birds  met 
together  to  try  which  could  fly  highest. 

Some  flew  very  swiftly,  but  soon  became  tired. 

But  the  eagle  flew  be3^ond  them  all. 

He  was  soon  very  near  the  sun. 

Just  as  he  thought  that  he  would  win  the 
prize,  what  do  you  think  happened  ? 

A  little  gray  linnet  who  had  hid  herself  on  the 
back  of  the  great  bird  flew  out. 

She  went  up  and  up,  higher  than  the  eagle. 

For  the  sly  little  thing  had  an  easy  ride  on  the 
eagle's  back,  and  she  was  not  tired. 


98 


WINTER   STORIES   AND   POEMS 


When  she  came  down,  she  was  bold  enough  to 
ask  for  the  prize. 

Do  you  think  she  should  have  got  it  ? 

"No/'  the  judges  said. 

"  The  eagle  not  only  soared  higher  than  any 
one  else,  but  he  carried  another  bird  on  his  back." 


u.-//" 


WHY   THE   CROW   IS   BLACK 


99 


WHY   THE   CROW   IS   BLACK 


We  often  say  ''  black  as  a  crow/' 

Would  it  not  sound  strange  to  say  "  white  as 
a  crow  "  ? 

Yet  once  upon  a  time,  they  say,  the  crow  was 
as  white  as  the  swan  that  sails  on  the  lake  in 
the  park. 

And  it  could  sing  sweeter  than  your  canary. 

More  than  this,  it  could  talk  much  better 
than  the  parrot. 

For  that  silly  bird  can  only  say  what  it  has 
been  taught. 

But  the  crow  could  talk  as  plain  as  you,  John. 


100  WINTER   STORIES   AND  POEMS 

But  now  all  the  crows  are  black  because  there 
was  once  a  wicked  crow  who  liked  to  tell  tales. 

This  beautiful  snow-white  crow  hung  in  a 
cage,  in  the  house  of  its  master,  Phoebus. 

He  was  petted  and  smoothed  and  fed  by  the 
master's  own  hand. 

But  the  crow  was  not  grateful. 

Although  he  could  sing  sweetly  and  talk 
prettily,  he  had  a  wicked  heart. 

He  did  not  like  his  master's  young  wife. 

He  was  jealous  when  his  master  talked  and 
laughed  with  her. 

One  day  Phoebus  went  on  a  long  journey. 

While  he  was  away,  the  crow  slyly  watched 
and  listened. 

He  hoped  to  have  a  long  tale  to  pour  into  his 
master's  ear  when  he  returned. 

At  last  Phoebus,  all  tired  and  dusty,  entered 
the  house.  Then  the  crow  began  to  tell  him 
wicked  lies. 

Now  Phoebus  had  a  hot  temper.  He  became 
so  angry  with  his  wife  that  he  killed  the  poor 
lady. 

Hardly  had  he  done  this  awful  thing  than  he 
remembered  how  good  she  was  and  how  much 
he  loved  her. 


WHY   THE   CROW-  IS   BLACK  101 

Then  he  wept  over  her,  as  if  his  heart  would 
break. 

But  all  at  once,  springing  to  his  feet,  he  caught 
the  wicked  bird  by  the  neck. 

He  shook  him  until  all  his  snow-white 
feathers   fell   out ! 

"  May  you  and  your  children  for  ever  and  ever 
be  black,  you  teller  of  black  tales !  "  he  cried. 

"  But  you  shall  tell  no  more  tales ! "  he  said. 
"  You  shall  tell  no  more  tales  ! 

''  From  this  day,  you  shall  never  speak  an- 
other word. 

"  Instead  of  your  sweet  song,  you  shall  have  a 
dismal  croak. 

"  And  when  people  hear  you,  they  will  know 
that  the  black  clouds  are  gathering,  and  the 
storm    coming." 

Now  I  am  not  sure  that  thif^  is  a  true  story, 
but  this  is  true  :  — 

Nobody  likes  the  person  who  brings  bad 
news. 

—  Adapted  from  Chaucer's  "  Canterbury  Tales.'' 


SNOW 


SNOWFLAKES 

Out  of  the  sky  they  come 

Wandering  down  the  air, 
Some  to  the  roofs  and  some 

Whiten  the  branches  bare. 

Some  in  the  empty  nest, 
Some  on  the  ground  below, 

Until  the  world  is  dressed 
All  in  a  gown  of  snow. 

Dressed  in  a  fleecy  gown 
Out  of  the  snowflakes  spun ; 

Wearing  a  golden  crown,  — 
Over  her  head  the  sun. 

Out  of  the  sky  again 

Ghosts  of  the  flowers  that  died 
Visit  the  earth,  and  then 
Under  the  white  drifts  hide. 

—  Frank  Dempster  Sherman. 
102 


DIANA   AND   NIOBE 


103 


DIANA   AND   NIOBE 

Diana   was   a   great   huntress.     Her   arrow 
never  missed  the  mark. 

Followed  by  her 
dogSj  she  went  over 
hill  and  valley,  for- 
est and  plain. 

She  often  joined 
her  brother,  Apollo, 
in  the  chase. 

They  were  very 
fond  of  each  other, 
and  of  their  mother 
Latona. 

Let  me  tell  you 
how  they  punished 
a  proud  mortal  who 
thought  herself  as 
great  as  Latona. 

This  was  Niobe. 
She  had  seven 
strong  sons  and  seven  beautiful  daughters. 

She  said:    "Who  is  this  Latona,  that  every- 
body  should  praise  her  ? 


104  WINTER  STORIES  AND  POEMS 

^'She  has  but  two  children.  I  have  seven 
times  as  many. 

"  Even  if  I  should  lose  some  of  mine,  I  should 
not  be  as  poor  as  Latona  with  her  two  only." 

When  the  goddess  Latona  heard  this,  she  was 
very  angry.  Calling  her  mighty  son  Apollo 
and  her  daughter  Diana,  she  told  them  of  it. 

They  darted  through  the  air  to  the  earth,  and 
alighted  on  the  towers  of  the  city. 

The  clouds  hid  them  from  view. 

On  a  broad  plain  the  young  men  of  the  city 
were  playing  games.  Among  them  were  the 
sons  of  Niobe. 

The  oldest  was  trying  to  drive  a  pair  of  fiery 
horses. 

Apollo  drew  his  bow.  The  arrow  sped,  and 
he  fell  dead. 

Two  others  were  wrestling.  One  arrow  pierced 
them  both. 

Then  one  after  another  fell,  until  the  seven 
sons  of  Niobe  lay  dead. 

Their  mother  wept,  and  kissed  them.  "  Cruel 
Latona,"  she  cried,  ^^you  have  done  this.  But 
I  am  still  richer  than  you,  for  I  have  my  seven 
daughters." 

She  had  hardly  spoken  when  Diana  drew  her 


DIANA  ANDNIOBE 


105 


bow.     One  after  another  of  Niobe's  daughters 
fell  beside  their  brothers. 

Only  one  was  left.     The  poor  mother  begged 
for  the  life  of  her  youngest  daughter. 

''Spare   me  this  one/'   she   cried, 
as  she  covered  it  with  her  arms. 

But  Diana  had  no  pity. 

The    wretched    mother    grew 
stiff  with  grief. 

There  was  no  sign  of  life 
about  her. 

Her  eye  was  fixed,  her 
cheek  was  pale,  the  breeze 
did  not  move  her  hair. 

Her  tongue  stuck  to  the 
roof  of  her  mouth,  her  arm   made  no  motion, 
her  foot  took  no  step. 

She  was  changed  to  stone,  within  and  with- 
out, but  her  tears  continued  to  flow. 


106 


WINTER   STORIES   AND   POEMS 


THE   TREE   IN   WINTER 


The  tree  was  cold, 
the  tree  was  bare, 

She  shivered  and 
shook  in  the 
frosty  air, 

Then  she  called  to 
her  friend,  the 
dear  kind  May, 

"  0  bring  me  a 
leafy  robe,  I 
pray ! '' 

But  the  spring  had 
journeyed  far 
away. 

And  would  not  return  for  many  a  day ; 
So  old  Jack  Frost,  that  good  little  elf. 
Said,  "  I'll  make  the  tree  a  gown  myself !  " 

He  wove  a  robe  all  snowy  white, 
From  frozen  mist,  with  ice-fringe  bright, 
And  the  pretty  tree,  in  her  new  gown  dressed 
Could  not  tell  whether  leaves  or  snow  were  best. 

—  Eleanor  Smith. 


MISCELLANEOUS 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  WOOD 


Near  a  grove 
of  Spruce  Firs, 
which  grew  in  a 
beautiful  wood 
with  many  other 
trees,  stood  a  Sil- 
ver Birch. 

All  summer  long 
she  had  watched 
the  Spruce  trees 
getting  into  every 
one's  way,  and 
even  into  one  an- 
other's. 

One       morning 
she  awoke  to  find 
that   the    branches    of    the   nearest    tree    were 
scratching  her  beautiful  bark. 

"You  ought  to  give  way  a  little,"  said  the 

107 


The  Silver  Birch 


108 


WINTER  STORIES   AND  POEMS 


Birch.     "It  would  be  more  agreeable  to  youi 
neighbors  and  more  comfortable  to  yourselves.'* 
"We  are  quite  comfortable  as  we  are/'  an- 
swered  the    Spruce ;    "  so   why   and   to   whom 
should  we  give  way?" 

"  To  me  and  to  all  your 
neighbors/'  said  the  Birch. 
"Never/'  answered  the 
Spruce. 

"Never,  never,  never/' 
echoed  all  the  other 
Spruces,  in  a  loud  voice. 
A  squirrel,  who  was  sit- 
ting on  a  tree  near  by, 
dropped  the  cone  from 
which  she  had  been  pick- 
ing the  seeds.  She  was 
frightened  at  the  noise. 

Many  weeks  passed  by. 
Beautiful  little  cones  hung 
on  the  branches  of  the  Spruce  trees. 

The  grove  looked  to  be  in  a  green  and  flour- 
ishing condition.  But  within  all  was  brown 
and  dry. 

The  summer  had  been  very  hot  and  sultry. 
The  air  in  the  Spruce  grove  became  close  and 


The  Spruce 


THE   LAW   OF  ^HE   WOOD  109 

unhealthy.  The  vapor  that  rose  from  the  earth 
after  heavy  rains  was  never  blown  away  by 
the  fresh  breezes. 

And  ^;11  this  was  because  the  trees  would  not 
give  way  even  to  each  other. 

"  What  can  it  matter/'  said  they,  "  whether 
we  are  green  inside  ?  Still,  I  do  wonder  why 
one  part  is  more  green  than  another." 

"  It  is  absurd  for  you  to  wonder  about  it/' 
said  the  Birch.  "•  No  tree  could  prosper  who 
insisted  upon  growing  in  his  own  and  everybody 
else's  way." 

"My  dear  friend/'  said  a  Spruce,  "you  are 
very  unjust.  Our  rule  is  to  go  our  own  way 
and  let  everybody  else  do  the  same." 

"  Everybody  cannot  go  his  own  way  when 
we  all  live  together/'  answered  the  Birch. 
"  Give  way  one  to  another,  is  the  law  of  the 
wood." 

Many  months  passed  by.  All  the  Spruce  trees 
were  dead,  except  one  which  happened  to  stand 
a  little  apart  from  the  others. 

At  last  this  one  was  cut  down  by  the  owner 
of  the  wood  for  a  Christmas  tree. 

It  stood  in  a  brightly  lighted  room,  covered 
with  lights  and  presents. 


110  WINTER   STORIES   AND   POEMS 

The  children  rushed  forward.  They  tumbled 
one  over  another,  each  going  his  own  way  with- 
out caring  what  happened  to  his  neighbor. 

The  parents  held  them  back,  telling  one  to 
give  place  to  another. 

Then  the  Spruce  Fir  understood  the  fate  of 
his  friends. 

He  repeated  to  himself  the  words  of  the  Silver 
Birch. 

"  Give  way  to  one  another.  This  is  the  law 
of  the  wood." 


THE   HEMLOCK   TREE 

0  hemlock  tree !     0  hemlock  tree  !     How  faith- 
ful are  thy  branches ! 
Green  not  alone  in  summer  time, 
But  in  the  winter's  frost  and  rime ! 
0  hemlock  tree  !     0  hemlock  tree !     How  faith- 
ful are  thy  branches ! 

—  From  the  German^  by  Longfellow. 


JUPITER 


111 


JUPITER 


Away  up  above  the  clouds,  on  the  top  of  a 
high  mountain,  lived  Jupiter. 

He  was  the  mighty  king  of  the  sky  and  the 
earth. 

So  mighty  was  he  that 
if  he  but  nodded  his  head, 
the  great  mountain  shook. 

From  his  high  place  he 
could  see  all  that  went  on 
upon  the  earth. 

It  was  Jupiter  who  gath- 
ered the  storm  clouds.  It 
was  he  who  sent  the  thun- 
der, and  lightning. 

But  he  was  kind,  too. 
For    he    sent    the    gentle 

rains  and  winds  that  make  the  grass  and  flowers 
grow. 

His  house  was  a  beautiful  palace  of  gold  on 
Mount  Olympus. 

Juno,  his  wife,  sat  beside  him  on  a  golden 
throne,  with  her  feet  in  golden  sandals. 

She  had  large  beautiful  eyes  like  an  ox. 


Jupiter 


112 


WINTER   STORIES  AND   POEMS 


Did  yoii  know  that  the  ox  has  eyes  like  soft 
brown  velvet  ? 

But,  in  spite  of  her  soft  eyes,  Juno  could  be 
very  angry  and  very  cruel. 

Do  you  remember  how 
cruel  she  was  to  La- 
tona? 

Jupiter's  sons  and 
daughters  lived  with 
him  on  Mount  Olympus. 
They  all  had  golden 
houses  of  their  own. 

Every  day  they  took 
dinner    together   in  the 
great   hall    of   Jupiter's 
palace. 
Beautiful  Hebe,  the  youngest  of  his  daughters, 
waited  on  the  table  and  poured  out  the  nectar. 
They  ate  a  delicious  food  called  Ambrosia. 
While  they  ate  and  drank,  Apollo  made  music 
on  his  wonderful  lyre. 

After  the  feast  was  over  and  the  sun  went 
down,  they  all  said  "good-night"  and  went 
home. 


Juno 


Jupiter's  eagle 


113 


JUPITER'S  EAGLE 

The  eagle  was  Jupi- 
ter's bird. 

He  loved  it  as  dearly 
as  Uncle  Sam  loves  it. 

He  sometimes  fed  it 
from  his  own  hands. 

The  bird  carried  the 
messages  for  the  great 
king. 

Let  me  tell  you  on 
what  a  strange  errand 
the  eagle  came  to  earth 
for  one  day. 

Jupiter  needed  some 
one  ta  fill  pretty  Hebe's 
place  at  table. 

You  remember  that 
Hebe  poured  out  the 
nectar  for  the  gods. 

Now  she  had  mar- 
ried the  great  hero  Her- 
cules. 

As     Jupiter     looked 


Hebe 


114  WINTER   STORIES  AND  POEMS 

down  on  the  earth,  he  saw  a  crowd  of  little  boys 
playing  in  a  meadow. 

Some  were  rolling  over  each  other  in  the 
sweet  grass. 

Others  were  wrestling  and  boxing. 

Some  little  ones  were  playing  "  tag." 

One  little  urchin  with  fat  brown  legs  was  the 
swiftest  runner  of  them  all. 

All  at  once  something  was  seen  coming  down 
out  of  the  sky. 

At  first  it  looked  like  a  mere  speck. 

As  it  came  nearer  and  nearer,  the  boys  saw 
that  it  was  a  monstrous  eagle. 

Then  its  mighty  wings  made  a  noise  like  the 
wind. 

It  made  one  swift  dart  and  swooped  down  on 
Ganymede. 

It  fastened  its  talons  in  his  kilt,  and  carried 
him  off  from  his  playmates. 

Higher  and  higher  the  eagle  soared,  with  the 
poor  little  fellow  kicking  and  screaming. 

At  last  they  came  to  Olympus.  Here 
Ganymede,  before  long,  became  very  happy,  for 
Jupiter  made  a  great  pet  of  him. 


Ganymede 


115 


116        WINTER  STORIES  AND  POEMS 


NEW  YEAR   SONG 

There's  a  New  Year  coming,  coming 
Out  of  some  beautiful  sphere, 

His  baby  eyes  bright 

With  hope  and  delight : 
We  welcome  you,  Happy  New  Year. 

There's  an  Old  Year  going,  going 
Away  in  the  winter  drear ; 

His  beard  is  like  snow 

And  his  footsteps  are  slow : 
Good-by  to  you,  weary  Old  Year  ! 

There  is  always  a  New  Year  coming ; 
There  is  always  an  Old  Year  to  go ; 

And  never  a  tear 

Drops  the  Happy  New  Year 
As  he  scatters  his  gifts  on  the  snow. 

—  Lucy  Larcom. 


JANUS 


117 


JANUS 

If  you  gave  a  rat-tat-tat  on  the  gate  and 
some  one  like  this  opened  it^  what  would  you 
do  ?  I  think  you 
would  run  away. 

AVell,  this  strange 
man  with  two  faces 
was  the  door-keeper 
of  Jupiter's  palace 
on  Mount  Olympus. 

His  name  is  Ja- 
nus. 

He  still  stands 
guard  at  the  gateways  of  the  years. 

Every  New  Year's  day  at  tlie  rat-tat-tat  of 
Father  Time,  he  opens  wide  the  doors  of  the 
New  Year. 

Then  we  all  enter  and  are  glad. 

We  say  to  each  other ''  A  Happy  New  Year !" 

After  we  have  played  a  little  while,  and 
worked  a  little  while,  and  may  be  cried  a 
little  while,  some  of  us  come  out.  And  then 
Janus  opens  for  us  the  door  of  another  year. 

Do  you  know  now  why  we  call  New  Year's 
day  the  first  of  January? 


118  WINTER   STORIES   AND   POEMS 

CHRONOS 

Old  Father  Time  used  to  be  called  King 
Chronos. 

With  his  wife,  the  beautiful  Earth  Mother, 
Rhea,  he  ruled  over  his  people  for  many  years. 

He  would  have  been  very  happy  but  for  one 
thing. 

He  was  afraid  that  some  day  his  son  would  be 
king  in  his  place. 

This  troubled  him  so  much  that  he  tried  to 
think  of  a  way  to  prevent  it. 

You  could  never  guess  what  a  strange  way  he 
chose  ! 

When  the  little  new-born  baby  was  put  in  his 
arms,  he  wrapped  it  up  and  swallowed  it ! 

In  this  way  he  swallowed  eleven  of  his  sons 
and  daughters. 

Rhea,  their  mother,  was  very  sad  at  losing  her 
children  in  this  way. 

So  when  the  twelfth  baby  was  born,  she  hid 
him,  and  gave  a  stone  wrapped  up  instead  of  a 
child  to  Chronos. 

He  quickly  swallowed  it. 

Then  she  took  the  little  baby  to  an  island  far 
away. 


SONG  OF   THE   WRENS  119 

Here  he  grew  strong  and  beautiful. 

He  was  taught  by  a  wise  teacher. 

At  last  he  Avas  a  man,  and  learned  that  King 
Chronos  was  his  father. 

He  heard,  too,  of  the  cruel  way  in  which  his 
brothers  and  sisters  had  been  destroyed. 

He  travelled  back  to  his  father's  kingdom,  and 
took  away  from  him  his  throne. 

He  made  him  give  back  to  Rhea  all  the  chil- 
dren he  had  swallowed. 

Then  King  Chronos  began  a  long  journey, 
which  has  never  ended. 

He  never  stops.     He  does  not  rest  a  second. 


WINTER:    SONG   OF   THE  WRENS 

The  frost  is  here 

And  fuel  is  dear, 

And  woods  are  sear, 

And  fires  burn  clear, 

And  frost  is  here, 

And  has  bitten  the  heel  of  the  going  year. 

Bite,  frost,  bite ! 
You  roll  up  away  from  the  light 


120 


WINTER   STORIES   AND  POEMS 


The  blue  woodlouse  and  the  phimp 

dormouse, 
And  the  bees  are  stilled,  and  the 

flies  are  killed, 
And  you  bite  far  into  the  heart  of 

the  house, 
But  not  into  mine. 


Bite,  frost,  bite ! 

The  woods  are  all  the  searer, 

The  fuel  is  all  the  dearer, 

The  fires  are  all  the  clearer. 

My  spring  is  all  the  nearer, 

You  have  bitten  into  the  heart  of  the  earth. 

But  not  into  mine. 

—  Tennyson. 


WINTER 


121 


WINTER 


When  icicles  hang  by  the  wall 

And  Dick  the  shepherd  blows  his  nail, 
And  Tom  bears  logs  into  the  hall. 

And  milk  comes  frozen  home  in  pail ; 
Then  nightly  sings  the  starry  owl 
Tuwhoo ! 
Tuwhit!     Tuwhoo! 

—  Shake  8PEA"RE. 


SPRING  STORIES  AND  SONGS 


GENERAL 


PLUTO 

How  strange  it  would  be  to  take  a  ride 
down  through  the  earth ! 

Has  anybody  ever  done  so  ? 

Yes,  miners  who  dig  out  the  coal  which  we 
burn. 

Long  ago  people  thought  that  if  you  rode 
down —  down —  all  the  way  through  the  earth, 
you  came  to  a  place  called  Hades. 

There  the  sun  never  shone ;  there  was  weep- 
ing and  sorrow  all  the  time. 

Around  it  flowed  the  river  Styx;  the  boat- 
man, Charon,  carried  people  across. 

A  strange  monster  guarded  the  gates. 

This  was  Cerberus,  —  a  fierce  dog  with  three 
heads. 

He  was  gentle  to  any  one  who  went  in.  But 
growled  at  those  who  tried  to  get  out. 

The    king  of    this    dark  country  was  named 

125 


126  SPRING   STOHIES   AND   SONGS 

Pluto.  He  was  the  brother  of  the  mighty 
Jupiter. 

To  him  belonged  all  the  treasures  found  in  the 
earth. 

The  yellow  gold,  the  shining  quartz,  the  beds 
of  coal,  the  mines  of  diamonds.  But  in  spite  of 
all  this,  he  was  sad  and  lonely. 

He  had  no  one  to  make  his  dark  palace  bright 
and  happy. 

At  last  he  could  stand  it  no  longer. 

So  one  day  he  called  for  his  chariot  with  its 
four  black  horses.  He  drove  up  to  the  earth, 
and  brought  back  Proserpine. 


PROSERPINE 

Proserpine  was  a  dear  little  girl  who  liked 
nothing  better  than  to  play  all  day  among  the 
flowers. 

Ceres,  her  mother,  had  charge  of  all  the  grain 
and  fruit  upon  the  earth. 

One  morning  Ceres  said  to  her  little  daughter  : 

"  Now,  my  dear,  I  shall  be  away  all  day.  I 
have  to  go  to  a  distant  place  to  make  the  crops 
grow. 


PKOSERPINE  127 

"Be  a  good  little  girl,  and  play  with  the 
gentle  sea-nymphs  upon  the  shore. 

"  But  do  not  go  into  the  water^  and  do  not  go 
alone  into  the  woods." 

For  a  long  time  Proserpine  played  with  the 
sea-nymphs. 

They  brought  her  beautiful  shells  and  corals 
from  the  sea. 

Then  she  gathered  wild  roses  and  made  gar- 
lands for  them. 

It  seemed  to  her  that  the  flowers  had  never 
been  so  beautiful  before. 

She  filled  her  apron  with  them.  But  there 
was  always  a  more  beautiful  flower  just  a  step 
farther. 

Then  another  step! — and  another! — and,  at 
last,  she  was  in  the  forest. 

She  looked  back,  and  saw  the  sea  a  long  way 
off. 

She  felt  afraid  ! 

"  I  must  run  back,"  she  whispered  to  herself, 
and  turned  to  go. 

But  there,  just  at  her  feet,  was  a  most  strange 
and  beautiful  flower. 

It  had  bright  petals  and  a  sweet  smell. 

'  How  lovely !  "   said  Proserpine,  "  and  how 


128  SPRING   STORIES   AND   SONGS 

strange  that  I  did  not  see  it  before !  It  must 
have  just  this  minute  opened  !  " 

She  stooped  to  phick  the  beautiful  flower. 

As  she  did  so  she  heard  a  rumbling  noise  like 
thunder. 

The  flower  came  up,  roots  and  all. 

Then  the  hole  at  her  feet  became  larger  and 
larger. 

All  at  once,  out  of  it  came  a  chariot  drawn  by 
four  coal-black  horses. 

In  it  sat  King  Pluto. 

His  face  was  pale  and  sad. 

He  shaded  his  eyes  with  his  hand  as  if  the 
light  hurt  them. 

Before  Proserpine  could  run  away,  Pluto 
caught  her  in  his  arms. 

She  screamed  so  loud  that  her  mother,  al- 
though far  off,  heard  her. 

Pluto's  horses  were  swift  as  the  wind. 

In  spite  of  the  little  girl's  cries,  he  held  her 
close. 

After  he  had  gone  some  miles,  he  struck  the 
earth  with  his  staff.  It  opened,  and  his  horses 
plunged  down  into  the  dark  hole. 

On  the  way  he  tried  to  be  kind  to  her,  and 
make  her  forget  her  trouble. 


PROSERPINii:  129 

He  pointed  out  the  veins  of  gold,  and  the 
bright  quartz  crystals. 

He  showed  her  tons  of  diamonds,  and  told 
her  that  all  these  things  should  be  hers. 

But  this  did  not  make  her  happy.  She 
thought  only  of  her  dear  mother. 

After  a  while  they  came  to  the  river  Lethe. 
Its  waters  were  black  and  still. 

Pluto  told  the  child,  that  if  she  would,  drink 
a  few  drops  of  the  water,  she  would  forget  her 
sorrow. 

But  Proserpine  did  not  want  to  forget  her 
mother,  and  cried  harder  than  ever. 

At  last  they  reached  the  king's  palace. 

Dinner  was  set  before  them,  but  Proserpine 
would  not  taste  it. 

She  knew  that  those  who  ate  anything  in 
Hades  must  stay  there  forever. 

Every  day  after  this  some  new  and  delicious 
dish  was  cooked  for  her,  but  all  in  vain. 

For  six  long  months  Proserpine  ate  nothing. 


130  SPRING   STORIES  AND   SONGS 


THE  FINDING   OF  PROSERPINE 

All  this  time  Ceres  had  been  looking  for  her 
little  daughter. 

She  had  hurried  home  when  she  heard  Proser- 
pine scream. 

She  had  asked  the  sea-nymphs  where  their 
little  playmate  was. 

But  they  could  only  tell  her  that  she  had 
gone  to  gather  flowers. 

Then  she  lighted  a  torch  and  searched  in  all 
the  dark  corners  of  the  world. 

She  knocked  at  every  door ;  she  asked  every 
one  that  she  met. 

But  no  one  had  seen  Proserpine. 

At  last  she  thought  of  Apollo,  who  drives 
the  sun-ear  every  day  through  the  heavens. 

^'Surely/'  she  thought,  ^^he  can  see  all  that 
happens  in  the  world,  and  will  tell  me  where 
my  daughter  is." 

"  Yes,  Mother  Ceres,"  said  he  when  she  asked 
him,  "your  little  girl  was  gathering  flowers, 
when  King  Pluto  snatched  her  up.  He  has 
carried  her  down  to  his  kingdom." 


THE   FINDING   OF  TROSERPINE  131 

Ceres  was  very  angry. 

She  said  that  neither  grain  nor  fruit  should 
grow  on  the  earth  until  Pluto  gave  back  her 
daughter. 

Then  all  the  earth  became  brown  and  bare. 

The  cattle  died ;  the  birds  hid  themselves. 

Men  ploughed  and  sowed,  but  only  thistles 
and  brambles  u^rew. 

At  last  the  people  begged  mighty  Jupiter  to 
help  them. 

He  heard  them,  and  sent  his  messenger,  Mer- 
cury, to  Hades  to  bring  Proserpine  back. 

Now  all  this  time  Proserpine  had  eaten  none 
of  the  dainties  cooked  for  her  in  the  palace  of 
King  Pluto. 

The  king  was  afraid  that  the  little  girl  would 
starve. 

So  he  sent  a  messenger  to  earth  to  bring 
down  some  fresh  fruit. 

But  nothing  was  growing  on  the  earth  at 
this  time,  and  all  they  could  find  was  a  poor 
withered  pomegranate. 

Proserpine  was  very  fond  of  this  fruit,  and 
when  she  saw  it,  she  put  her  little  teeth  in  it 
and  took  one  bite. 

Alas !  she  swallowed  six  seeds. 


THE   FINDING   OF   PROSERPINE  133 

At  that  very  moment  Mercury  and  Pluto  came 
into  the  room. 

"  My  dear,"  said  Pluto,  '^  here .  is  Mercury, 
who  has  come  to  take  you  back  to  earth  again. 

"  I  shall  be  very  lonely  when  you  go.  But, 
although  I  love  you  very  much,  I  cannot  be 
hard-hearted  enough  to  keep  you." 

Now  would  you  believe  that  Proserpine  was 
sorry  to  leave  King  Pluto ! 

She  had  learned  to  love  him  a  little. 

So  she  promised  to  spend  a  month  with  him 
for  every  seed  she  had  eaten. 

The  rest  of  the  year  she  would  spend  with 
her   mother. 

Then  Mercury  took  her  hand  and  led  her  back 
to  earth. 

She  would  grow  beautiful  again. 

As  she  walked,  the  earth  grew  green  behind 
her  and  on  either  side  of  her. 

Wherever  she  put  her  pretty  foot  there  sprang 
up  a  flower. 

The  violets  blossomed  in  her  path. 

The  grain  began  to  sprout. 

The  birds  hopped  about  upon  the  trees,  and 
sang  with  joy  as  she   came. 

Soon  she  was  in  her  mother's  arms. 


134  SPRING  STORIES  AND   SONGS 


SPRING 

The  alder  by  the  river 

Shakes  out  her  powdery  curls ; 
The  willow  buds  in  silver 

For  little  boys  and  girls. 

The  little  birds  fly  over, 

And  oh,  how  sweet  they  sing ! 

To  tell  the  happy  children 
That  once  again  'tis  spring. 

The  gay  green  grass  conies  creeping 
So  soft  beneath  their  feet ; 

The  frogs  begin  to  ripple 
A  music  clear  and  sweet. 

And  butterflies  are  coining 

And  scarlet  columbine, 
And  in  the  sunny  meadows 

The  dandelions  shine. 

And  just  as  many  daisies 

As  their  soft  hands  can  hold, 

The  little  ones  may  gather, 
All  fair  in  white  and  gold. 


SPRING 


135 


Here  blows  the  warm  red  clover, 

There  peeps  the  violet  blue ; 
0  happy  little  children  ! 

God  made  them  all  for  you. 

—  Celia  Thaxter. 


ANIMALS 


THE  LITTLE   WORM   THAT   WAS   GLAD 
TO   BE   ALIVE 

Once  there  was  a  little  worm  about  as  long 
as  the  nail  of  my  thumb.  He  was  no  larger 
round  than  a  big  darning-needle. 

This  little  worm  lived  in  a  little  house  that 
he  had  made  for  himself  in  the  ground. 

It  was  just  big  enough  to  hold  him  when  he 
rolled  himself  up  like  a  little  ball,  with  his  head 
sticking  out. 

There  were  no  windows  nor  doors  in  his 
house,  except  one  on  top,  which  was  his  door  to 
go  in  at,  and  his  window  to  look  out  of. 

One  day  he  crawled  into  this  little  house  and 
curled  himself  up.  He  went  to  sleep  and  slept 
all  winter. 

One  morning  the  soft,  warm  rain  told  the 
little  Avorm  that  spring  had  come. 

He  popped  up  his  head  and  thought  that  he 
would  go  out  to  walk  in  the  garden. 

136 


THE   LITTLE- WORM  137 

So  he  squirmed  himself  up  out  of  his  hole, 
and  crept  along  the  garden  path.  He  was  as 
glad  as  he  could  be  that  he  was  alive. 

Now  in  the  house  that  stood  in  that  garden, 
lived  a  little  boy  about  four  years  old. 

When  the  morning  came,  the  sunbeams  had 
gone  into  his  nursery  and  waked  him. 

He  was  washed  and  dressed,  and  had  his 
breakfast  of  bread  and  milk. 

Then  his  mamma  took  him  to  the  door  that 
led  down  the  steps  of  the  piazza  into  the  garden, 
and  told  him  to  take  a  run  down  the  path  and 
make  himself  warm. 

So  down  he  ran. 

Now  if  that  little  boy  should  put  his  strong 
foot  on  that  little  worm,  it  would  break  him  all 
to  pieces. 

But  he  would  not  do  such  a  cruel  thing ! 

He  saw  the  little  worm  creeping  along,  so 
glad  to  be  alive,  and  he  ran  on  the  other  side 
of  the  path. 

After  a  while  the  little  worm  felt  tired  and 
went  creeping  back  to  the  little  hole  that  was 
his  home. 

He  curled  himself  up  like  a  little  ball,  and 
went  to  sleep  for  the  rest  of  the  day. 


138  SPRING  STORIES   AND   SONGS 


ALL   THE   BIRDS  HAVE  COME  AGAIN 

All  the  birds  have  come  again. 

Come  with  joyous  singing. 
Through  the  meadow  and  the  wood, 

Hear  their  voices  ringing. 
Robin,  bhiebird,  thrush  and  all, — 

Listen  to  their  merry  call ! 
Pleasant  spring-time's  happy  days 

Joy  and  life  are  bringing. 

See  how  gayly  one  and  all 

To  and  fro  are  springing. 
Little  nests  you  soon  will  spy, 

To  the  branches  clinging, 
As  their  chirping  meets  my  ear. 

All  their  singing,  sweet  and  clear. 
Pleasant  spring-time's  happy  days 

Joy  and  life  are  bringing. 


SWALLOW 


139 


SWALLOW 


"  What  tidings  hath  the  Swallow 
heard 
That  bids  her  leave  the  lands  of 
Summer, 
For  woods  and  fields  where  April  yields 
Bleak  welcome  to  the  blithe  newcomer?" 


"  She  is  here,  she  is  here,  the  Swallow, 
Fair  seasons  bringing,  fair  years  to  follow/' 


140  SPRING   STORIES   AND   SONGS 


ROBIN   REDBREAST 

Very  early  was  the  little  Indian  boy  taught 
to  be  brave  and  to  endure. 

When  he  was  eleven  years  old,  he  had  to 
leave  his  father's  wigwam.  He  had  to  go  and 
live  in  the  forest  by  himself. 

Here  he  stayed  for  seven  days.  During  all 
that  time  he  did  not  eat  even  a  corn  cake.  He 
did  not  take  a  drink  of  cool  water  from  the 
stream. 

He  must  not  cry,  no  matter  how  much  he 
suffered.     He  must  be  patient  and  silent. 

Then  there  would  come  to  the  poor  little 
fellow  a  Great  Spirit. 

He  would  touch  the  boy  and  promise  him  that 
he  would  become  a  great  warrior. 

He  would  give  him,  too,  a  new  name. 

#  #  #  #  #  #  # 

Once  there  was  a  great  chief  who  had  an 
only  son. 

The  child  was  not  strong,  but  he  was  so 
gentle  and  good  that  every  one  loved  him. 

When  he  was  eleven  years  old,  the  poor  little 
boy  was  sent  to  the  forest. 


ROBIN    REDBREAST  141 

His  mother  wept  when  she  took  leave  of 
him.  She  felt  that  she  would  never  again  see 
her  darling. 

His  father,  too,  was  sad  at  heart. 

But  the  stern  old  chief  felt  that  he  must  teach 
his  son  to  be  brave.  He  hoped  that,  in  time,  he 
might  become  head  of  the  tribe. 

So  lie  made  him  a  little  tent  of  birch  logs. 

And  he  spread  on  tlie  floor  a  mat  of  reeds. 

Then  the  little  boy  lay  down  and  closed  his 
eyes,  and  his  father  went  away. 

After  a  few  days  the  great  chief  came  back 
and  saw  his  little  son,  pale  and  thin. 

'^  Fatlier,  take  me  back,"  said  he.  "  Take 
me  back,  or  I  shall  die. 

"  I  do  not  want  to  be  a  great  warrior.  I 
want  to  love  people,  not  to  kill  them." 

Bat  the  chief  said,  "  Be  patient,  my  son. 
In  two  more  days  I  shall  come  for  you  again. 

'^  Then  I  shall  bring  you  food,  and  take  you 
home  to  your  mother." 

On  the  seventh  day  he  came  and  lookea  in 
the  tent,  and  found  it  empty. 

But  on  the  roof  sat  a  robin  with  a  bright  red 
breast,  and  sang  this  song : 

"  Great  Chief,  I  was  once  your  son.     I  shall 


142 


SPRING  STORIES   AND   SONGS 


always  live  near  you,  and  love  your  people.     I 
shall  sing  them  this  song :  — 

Chief,  listen,  Chief ! 

Be  more  gentle ;  be  more  loving 

Chief,  teach  it.  Chief ; 

Be  not  fierce,  oh,  be  not  cruel ; 

Love  each  other ! 

Love  each  other ! " 


BOBOLINK 


143 


BOBOLINK 


"  Every  one's  a  funny  fellow,  every  one's  a  little 
mellow ; 
Follow,  follow,  follow,  follow,  o'er  the  hill  and 
in  the  hollow. 


lU 


SPRING   STORIES   AND   SONGS 


Merrily,  merrily,  there  they  lie ;  now  they  rise 

and  now  they  fly. 
They  cross  and  turn,  and  in  and  out,  and  down 

the  middle,  and  wheel  about, 
With  a  '  Phew,  shew,  Wadolincon !     Listen  to 

me,  Bobolincon ! 
Happy's  the  wooing  that's  speedily  doing,  that's 

speedily  doing, 
That's  merry  and  over  with  the  bloom  of  the 

clover. 
Bobolincon,  Wadolincon,  Winterseeble,   follow, 

follow  me  ! '  " 


WOOD   PEWEE 


145 


WOOD   PEWEE 


"A  LITTLE  bird,  in  suit 
Of  sombre  olive,  soft  and  brown, 
Perched  in  the  maple  branches,  mute ; 
With  greenish  gold  its  vest  was  fringed, 
Its  tiny  cap  was  ebon-tinged, 
With  ivory  pale  its  wings  were  barred, 
And  its  dark  eyes  were  tender  starred  — 
'  Dear  bird/  I  said,  '  what  is  thy  name  ? ' 
And  thrice  the  mournful  answer  came, 
So  faint  and  far,  and  yet  so  near,  — 
'  Pewee  !  pe-wee  !  peer  ! ' '' 

—  J.  T.  Trowbridge. 


146 


SPRING   STORIES   AND   SONGS 


wmmMM^P. 


HOW  THE   BEE 
GOT    HER    STING 

A  QUEEN  bee  once  flew  up 
Mount  Olympus  to  carry  to 
Jupiter  some  fresh  honey  from 
her  combs. 

Jupiter  was  so  delighted  with 
the  present  that  he  promised  to 
give  her  in  return  whatever  she 
asked. 

"  Give  me/'  said  the  queen 
bee,  "  a  sting.  So  that  if  any 
other  queen  tries  to  take  my 
people  from  me,  I  may  kill  her.  Give  me,  also, 
a  sting  for  each  of  my  bees.  So  that  if  a  mortal 
attempts  to  steal  honey  from  my  hive,  they, 
too,  may  die." 


CATCH 


147 


Jupiter  was  much  displeased,  for  he  loved  the 
race  of  man.     But  he  had  to  keep  his  promise. 

"  You  and  your  people  shall  have  a  sting,"  he 
said.  ''  But  if  you  use  it,  it  shall  remain  in  the 
wound  that  you  make.  And  you  shall  die  from 
the  loss  of  it." 


CATCH 


'^i^ 


Buzz,  quoth  the  blue  fly, 
Hum^  quoth  the  bee ; 

Buzz  and  hum  they  cry, 
And  so  do  we ! 


—  Ben  Jonson. 


I 


PLANTS 


ARBUTUS 


"  The  trailing  Spring  flower,  tinted  like  a  shell, 
Amid  dry  leaves  and  mosses." 


-Whittier. 


148 


HEPATICA 


"  Out  burst  the  merry  bright  sun,  like  gold ; 
And  a  robin  sang  out  so  blithe  and  bold, 
And  little  Hepatica  laughed  in  glee, 
'  Why,  it's  spring,  I  declare,  it's  spring,'  said  she." 

149 


150  SPRING   STORIES   AND   SONGS 


THE  LEGEND  OF  THE  SPRING  BEAUTY 

An  old  man  was  sitting  alone  in  his  hut  by 
the  side  of  a  frozen  stream. 

It  was  near  the  end  of  winter,  and  his  fire 
was  almost  out.  There  was  just  a  little  spark 
among  the  white  ashes. 

He  was  very  old.  His  hair  was  white,  and  he 
trembled  in  every  joint. 

He  lived  alone.  Day  after  day  passed,  and 
he  heard  nothing  but  the  North  wind  sweeping 
before  it  the  new  fallen  snow. 

One  day,  a  handsome  young  man  walked 
with  a  light  step  up  the  frozen  path  leading  to 
the  door. 

His  cheeks  were  red,  his  eyes  were  bright, 
and  a  smile  played  upon  his  lips. 

He  wore  on  his  head  a  wreath  of  sweet 
grass.  He  carried  a  bunch  of  flowers  in  his 
hand. 

The  old  man  had  been  alone  so  long,  that  he 
was  glad  to  have  a  visitor. 

"  Ah  !  my  son,"  he  said  in  his  shrill  old  voice, 
"  I  am  glad  to  see  you.  Come  in,  come  in.  Let 
us  pass  the  night  together." 


THE   LEGEND   OE   Sl^llNG  BEAUTY  151 

He  then  took  out  a  curious  old  pipe.  He  filled 
it  with  tobacco^  and  handed  it  to  his  guest. 

That  was  his  way  of  making  him  welcome. 

After  giving  another  touch  to  the  fire^  for  he 
did  not  want  it  to  go  out,  they  sat  down  to 
talk. 

Then  the  old  man  began  to  boast  of  what 
great  things  he  had  done  in  his  days. 

^'I  blow  my  breath,  and  the  streams  stand 
still,"  said  he.  "  The  waters  become  hard  as 
stone." 

"  I  breathe,"  said  the  young  man,  "  and 
flowers  spring  up  all  over  the  plain." 

"I  shake  my  locks,"  said  the  old  man,  ^^and 
snow  covers  the  land.  The  leaves  fall  from  the 
trees  at  my  bidding.  The  birds  fly  away,  and 
all  the  other  animals  hide  themselves  in  the 
ground." 

"  I  shake  my  curls,"  said  the  young  man, 
"  and  warm  showers  of  soft  rain  fall  upon  the 
earth,  like  the  eyes  of  children  shining  with  de- 
light. My  voice  brings  back  the  birds.  My 
warm   breath  unlocks   the    streams." 

So  the  night  passed.  As  the  young  man 
talked,  the  old  man  grew  silent. 

For  a^long  time  he  had  not  spoken. 


152 


SPRING   STOKIES   AND   SONGS 


The   young   man,  still  smiling,  dozed  in  his 
chair. 

At  length  the  sun  began  to  rise.     A  gentle 
warmth  came  over  the  place. 

The  stream  began  to  murmur  by  the  door. 

The  sweet  smell  of  grow- 
ing grass  and  flowers  came 
upon  the  breeze. 

A  robin  and  a  bluebird 
settled  on  the  roof  of  the 
hut  and  began  to  sing. 

The  young  man  opened 
his  eyes.  He  looked  upon 
the  face  of  the  old  man, 
now  cold  and  stiff  in  death. 
As  he  looked  the  old  man 
grew  smaller  and  smaller, 
and,  at  last,  melted  away. 
And  where  the  fire  had 
been  was  a  small  white  flower  with  a  pink 
border. 

The   young  man  touched  it  lightly  with  his 
fingers  and  went  on  his  way. 


CALLING   THE   VIOLET 


153 


CALLING   THE   VIOLET 


Dear  little  Violet, 

Don't  be  afraid ! 
Lift  your  blue  eyes 

From  the  rock's  mossy  shade ! 
All  the  birds  call  for  you 

Out  of  the  sky  : 
May  is  here  waiting, 

And  here,  too,  am  I. 


154  SPRING   STORIES   AND    SONGS 

Why  do  you  shiver  so, 

Violet  sweet  ? 
Soft  is  the  meadow-grass 

Under  my  feet. 
Wrapped  in  your  hood  of  green, 

Violet,  Avhy 
Peep  from  your  earth-door, 

So  silent  and  shy  ? 

Trickle  the  little  brooks 

Close  to  your  bed  ; 
Softest  of  fleecy  clouds 

Float  overhead ; 
"  Ready  and  waiting ! '' 

The  slender  reeds  sigh 
"  Ready  and  waiting !  " 

We  sing — May  and  I. 

Come,  pretty  Violet, 

Winter's  away : 
Come,  for  without  you 

May  isn't  May. 
Down  through  the  sunshine 

Wings  fluttered  and  fly  ;  — 
Quick,  little  Violet, 

Open  your  eye ! 


CALLING   THE    VIOLET  155 

Hear  the  rain  whisper, 

"  Dear  Violet,  come !  " 
How  can  you  stay 

In  your  underground  home  ? 
Up  in  the  pine  boughs 

For  you  the  winds  sigh, 
Homesick  to  see  you 

Are  we  —  May  and  I. 

Ha  !  though  you  care  not 

For  call  or  for  shout, 
Yon  troops  of  sunbeams 

Are  winning  you  out ; 
Now  all  is  beautiful 

Under  the  sky ; 
May's  here,  —  and  violets  ! 

Winter,  good-bye. 

—  Lucy  Larcom. 


156  SPRING   STORIES  AND   SONGS 


BAUCIS  AND   PHILEMON 

Mercury  went  on  many  errands  for  the  gods. 
He  became  a  great  traveller,  and  visited  every 
part  of  the  earth. 

Sometimes  there  was  nothing  to  do.  Some- 
times he  might  just  as  well  have  stayed  at  home 
in  Olympus.  But  even  then  he  often  made 
little  trips  of  seven  and  eight  thousand  miles 
for  the  fun  of  it. 

He  thought  no  more  of  that  than  you  would 
think  of  taking  a  ride  on  the  trolly. 

Many  strange  things  happened  on  these  occa- 
sions. But  the  story  I  am  going  to  tell  you 
now  is,  perhaps,  the  strangest  of  all. 

This  time  Mercury  begged  his  father  to  go 
with  him. 

Jupiter  agreed  to  go,  as  it  was  vacation  time 
for  him. 

"  But,"  said  Jupiter,  "  let  us  dress  ourselves 
like  men.  We  will  not  let  the  people  know 
that  we  are  gods.  I  want  to  see  how  men 
act  when  they  think  the  gods  are  not  look- 
ing on.'' 

That  very  day,  toward  the  close  of  the  after- 


BAUCIS  AND   PHILEMON  157 

noon,  two  poor  travellers  came  to  a  little  village 
in  Greece. 

They  must  have  walked  a  long  distance,  for 
they  were  grimy  with  the  dust  of  the  road.  One 
was  tall  and  grave  and  stern.  The  other  was 
young,  and  his  eyes  were  bright  and  twinkling 
with  fun. 

They  knocked  at  the  door  of  one  house  after 
another.  They  asked  for  something  to  eat,  and 
a  place  to  sleep. 

But,  because  they  were  poor  and  could  not 
pay,  they  were  driven  away. 

For  the  people  in  this  place  w^ere  not  good  to 
the  poor. 

If  they  had  known  that  the  tired-looking 
travellers  were  rich  men  or  powerful  gods,  they 
would  have  gladly  welcomed  them. 

Some  of  them  even  set  their  dogs  on  the 
tramps,  as  they  thought  them.  Many  of  the 
wicked  boys  threw  stones  at  them. 

After  a  while  they  came  to  a  poor  little 
cottage.  Here  lived  an  old  man  named  Phile- 
mon, and  his  wife  Baucis. 

Here  they  were  taken  in  by  this  tender- 
hearted old  couple. 

Philemon    talked    to    them.      He   told    them 


158  SPRING   STORIES   AND   SONGS 

how  sorry  he  was  that  they  had  been  so  badly 
treated  by  the  neighbors.  Meanwhile  the  good 
old  woman  laid  the  table  for  supper. 

She  spread  the  cloth.  She  put  on  the  table 
some  brown  bread  and  cheese,  and  a  little 
honey.  For  each  one,  there  was  a  bunch  of 
grapes. 

From  the  spring  in  which  it  had  been  put  to 
cool  she  brought  some  milk  in  a  brown  earthen 
pitcher,  and  filled  their  bowls. 

Then  they  sat  down  to  the  meal. 

The  young  man  drank  his  milk  in  one 
draught.     He  held  out  his  bowl  for  more. 

Poor  old  Baucis,  very  much  ashamed,  said  she 
was  afraid  there  was  no  more. 

"  But  look  and  see,"  said  the  young  man, 
^^  perhaps  it  is  not  so  bad  as  you  think." 

The  old  woman  lifted  the  pitcher.  There  it 
was,  full  of  delicious  milk.  It  was  much  richer 
than  that  which  her  poor  cow  gave.  In  this 
strange  way  it  was  filled  again  and  again. 

And,  as  the  guests  ate,  the  purple  grapes 
seemed  to  swell  and  grow  luscious.  The  stale 
end  of  the  loaf,  which  was  all  that  old  Baucis 
could  give  them,  grew  into  a  white  loaf  just 
fresh  from  the  oven! 


BAUCIS   AND  PHILEMON  159 

The  old  people  were  frightened  at  this  strange 
thing,  but  kept  silent. 

After  the  travellers  had  finished  their  sup- 
per, Baucis  lighted  a  candle.  She  led  the  way 
to  her  own  little  room  where  they  were  to 
sleep. 

She  and  her  husband  lay  down  on  the  floor 
and  talked  in  whispers  of  their  strange  guests. 

In  the  morning  the  old  people  were  up  early, 
and  the  travellers,  too,  soon  came  down. 

Philemon  and  Baucis  begged  them  to  stay  a 
little  longer.  But  they  said  that  they  had  far 
to  go,  and  must  go  at  once. 

So  all  four  started  out  together.  For  the  old 
man  and  his  wife  had  the  kind  thought  to  walk 
a  little  way  with  their  guests. 

As  they  were  mounting  the  hill  which  over- 
looked the  town,  the  elder  traveller  spoke  of  the 
hard  hearts  of  the  people,  who  had  driven  him 
from  their  doors. 

"They  forget,"  said  he,  "that  we  are  all 
brothers,  and  that  we  should  all  help  each 
other." 

As  he  spoke  he  frowned.  At  the  same  mo- 
ment the  sky  darkened  and  distant  thunder  was 
heard. 


160  SPRING  STORIES  AND  SONGS 

The  old  woman  was  afraid  of  the  coming 
storm.  She  looked  back  to  see  if  she  had 
closed  the  lattice  window  of  her  cottage. 

But  wonderful  to  tell !  What  do  you  think 
she  saw? 

The  village  was  nowhere  to  be  seen !  The 
valley  in  which  it  lay  was  filled  up  with  a  great 
blue  lake.  All  the  houses  and  people  were 
buried  in  its  waters  ! 

"  Oh  !  the  poor  people  !  "  cried  Baucis. 

''  Do  not  pity  them/'  said  Jupiter,  who  now 
showed  himself  in  his  true  shape  to  the  two 
kind-hearted  old  people. 

"  They  were  hard  and  cruel  to  the  poor,  and 
to  strangers.  They  did  not  deserve  to  live  as 
men  and  women.  Let  them  live  as  fishes  in 
the  cold  waters  of  the  lake." 

^' But  you,"  he  said  to  Philemon  and  Baucis, 
"you  have  shared  all  that  you  had  with  us. 
Now,  ask  me  whatever  you  want,  and  I  will 
grant  it." 

The  old  man  and  woman  looked  at  one  an- 
other. Then  said,  "  Let  us  live  together  while 
we  live.  And  let  us  die  at  the  same  moment, 
for  we  have  always  loved  each  other !  " 

"  Be  it  so  !  "  said  Jupiter. 


BAUCIS   AND   PHILEMON  161 

Then,  pointing  toward  their  cottage,  he  said, 
"  There  is  your  home." 

What  was  their  surprise  to  see^  instead  of  their 
poor  little  cottage,  a  beautiful  palace  of  white 
marble. 

They  turned  to  thank  the  gods,  but  neither 
Jupiter  nor  Mercury  were  there. 

For  many  years  the  old  folks  lived  in  the 
palace,  and  made  everybody  happy  who  passed 
that  way. 

The  brown  pitcher  was  always  full  of  milk 
when  it  was  wanted. 

One  summer  morning  the  old  folks  were  not 
to  be  found.  But  there  in  front  of  the  door  of 
their  palace  were  two  beautiful  trees.  Their 
roots  deep  down  in  the  ground,  and  their  branches 
touching  each  other  lovingly. 

One  was  an  oak  tree  and  the  other  was  a 
linden. 

As  the  breeze  rustled  through  their  leaves 
they  seemed  to  say :  — 

"  I  am  Philemon.''     "  I  am  Baucis." 

In  after  years,  many  times  a  dusty,  tired 
traveller  was  glad  to  sit  under  the  shade  of  these 
beautiful  trees. 


162 


SPRING   STORIKS   AND   SONGS 


THE   OAK  TREE 


The  oak  tree  was  an  acorn  once, 

And  fell  upon  the  earth ; 
And  sun  and  showers  nourished  it, 

And  gave  the  oak  tree  birth. 
The  little  sprouting  oak  tree ! 

Two  leaves  it  had  at  first, 
Till  sun  and  showers  had  nourished  it. 

Then  out  the  branches  burst. 


The  little  sapling  oak  tree ! 
Its  root  was  like  a  thread, 


STOKY   OF   THE   POPLAR  163 

Till  the  kindly  earth  had  nourished  it, 

Then  out  it  freely  spread. 
On  this  side  and  on  that  side. 

It  grappled  with  the  ground, 
And  in  the  ancient,  rifted  rock 

Its  firmest  footing  found. 

Then  sing  for  the  oak  tree. 

The  monarch  of  the  wood ; 
Sing  for  the  oak  tree, 

That  groweth  green  and  good  ; 
That  groweth  broad  and  branching 

Within  the  forest  shade ; 
That  groweth  now,  and  yet  shall  grow 

When  we  are  lowly  laid. 

—  Mary  Howitt. 


STORY   OP   THE   POPLAR 

An  old  man  once  found  the  pot  of  gold  that 
lies  at  the  foot  of  the  rainbow. 

He  snatched  it  up  and  put  it  under  his  cloak. 

Then  he  started  home  through  the  forest. 

When  the  dry  twigs  and  leaves  crackled  under 
his  feet,  he  was  frightened  and  looked  behind 
him. 


164  SPRING   STORIES   AND   SONGS 

He  was  afraid  that  somebody  was  following 
him. 

But  no  one  saw  him  ;  not  even  the  trees. 

They  were  all  asleep. 

At  last  he  was  so  tired  that  he  could  carry  it 
no  farther. 

So  he  hid  it  among  the  thick  branches  of  the 
Poplar  tree. 

Then  he  hurried  home,  meaning  to  come  back 
in  the  morning  early  and  get  it. 

But  very  soon  Iris  found  out  that  her  treasure 
was  gone. 

"  Somebody  has  stolen  the  pot  of  gold  that  lies 
at  the  foot  of  the  rainbow  !  "  she  cried  aloud. 

"Who  has  it?     Who  has  it?" 

Her  cries  wakened  the  trees. 

"Not  I/'  said  the  Maple. 

"Not  I/'  said  the  Oak. 

"Nor  I/'  said  the  Poplar. 

And  so  answered  the  Chestnut  and  the  Beech, 
and  all  the  other  trees. 

Then  Iris  ran  to  Father  Jupiter,  and  told  him 
of  her  loss. 

He  looked  out  from  Olympus,  and  called  to 
the  trees : — 

"  Hold  up  your  arms  !  " 


STORY   OF   THP:   POPLAR 


165 


Up  went  all  the  branches,  pomting  to  the  sky. 

But  alas !  when  the  Poplar  held  up  its 
branches,  down  fell  the  pot   of  gold. 

Now  this  noble  tree  felt  very  much  ashamed, 
for  it  was  an  honest  tree. 

"  Forgive  me,  Father  Jupiter,"  it  cried,  "  the 
thief  must  have  hidden  it  here  while  I  slept." 

^'  After  this,  I  shall  forever  hold  up  my  arms, 
to  show  that  nothing  is  hidden  in  them." 

And  true  enough,  there  the  Poplar  stands  ever 
since,  as  you  see  it  in  the  picture. 


166  SPRING  STORIES  AND   SONGS 


You  may  laugh  and  blush  and  smile. 
And  perfume  the  air  a  while. 
But,  sweet  things,  you  must  be  gone ; 
Fruit,  you  know,  is  coining  on. 

—  Robert  Hekrick. 


APOLLO   AND   DAPHNE  167 


APOLLO   AND   DAPHNE 

Cupid  was  a  pretty  merry  boy  who  could  shoot 
an  arrow  as  well  as  Apollo. 

But  his  arrows  did  not  kill. 

He  had  two  kinds:  one  was  gold  and  sharp- 
pointed,  and  this  made  people  love. 

The  other  was  of  lead  and  blunt-pointed,  and 
this  made  people  hate. 

Apollo  saw  the  little  fellow  one  day,  playing 
with  his  bow  and  arrow. 

"  What  are  you  doing  with  such  weapons, 
saucy  boy  ?  "  he  said. 

^^  Leave  the  bow  and  arrow  to  me,  and  play 
with  your  torch." 

Cupid  was  a  very  hot-tempered  little  god. 
He  talked  back  to  Apollo,  like  the  saucy  little 
boy  he  was. 

"1  am  greater  than  you,"  he  said,  ''for  you 
can  shoot  everything  else  with  your  arrow,  but 
/can  shoot  you  with  mine." 

Then  he  ran  away.  After  that  day  he 
watched  for  a  good  shot  at  Apollo. 

Now  one  day,  Apollo  was  taking  a  walk  on 
the  bank  of  the  river  Peneus. 


168  SPRING   STORIES   AND   SONGS 

All  at  once  there  came  in  sight  a  beautiful 
nymph,  named  Daphne. 

She  was  the  daughter  of  the  river,  and  lived 
in  a  cave  under  the  cliffs. 

Now  the  mischievous  little  Cupid  was  watch- 
ing from  the  top  of  a  hill. 

He  quickly  took  a  golden  arrow,  and  shot  it 
into  the  heart  of  Apollo. 

Then  he  shot  a  leaden  arrow  into  the  heart  of 
Daphne. 

Apollo  raised  his  eyes  and  saw  the  pretty 
nymph,  picking  her  way  over  the  stones  in  the 
river. 

Her  little  bare  feet  were  as  pink  as  sea-shells. 

Her  eyes  were  as  bright  as  stars. 

Her  hair  hung  loose  on  her  shoulders. 

"Oh!  pretty  maid,"  said  Apollo,  "come  and 
live  with  me  in  my  palace  in  the  sky." 

Daphne  ran  away  in  fright,  but  Apollo  fol- 
lowed her. 

"  Do  not  be  afraid,"  he  ^^aid.  "  I  shall  not 
hurt  you.  I  am  Apollo,  the  son  of  the  mighty 
Jupiter." 

But  Daphne  ran  faster  and  faster. 

"  Do  not  run  so  fast  on  these  rough  stones," 
called  Apollo,  "they  will  hurt  your  pretty  feet." 


Apollo  and  Daphne 


170  SPRING   STORIES   AND   SONGS 

But  still  she  hurried  on. 

She  was  at  last  out  of  breath,  and  able  to  run 
no  farther. 

Apollo  was  just  behind,  and  put  out  his  hand 
to  seize  her. 

"  Father  Peiieus,  save  me  !  save  me ! '[  she 
called. 

The  river-god  heard  her,  and  all  at  once  her 
feet  were  fastened  into  the  soil,  and  became 
roots. 

Her  body  was  covered  with  the  thin  bark  of  a 
young  tree. 

Her  arms  became  branches  ;  and  her  beautiful 
hair  became  the  leaves  of  the  laurel  tree. 

Apollo  was  very  sad  at  losing  the  beautiful 
nymph. 

He  gathered  some  of  the  leaves  and  made  a 
wreath. 

"  You  shall  always  be  my  tree,''  he  said. 

"  I  shall  wear  you  for  my  crown. 

"  Your  leaves  shall  be  always  green,  and  great 
heroes  shall  be  crowned  with  them." 


DANDELION -^  FASHIONS  171 


DANDELION  FASHIONS 

Here  and  there^  every  where. 

Where  the  sun  is,  where  the  shade  is, 

Fresh  and  sweet,  on  tilting  feet. 
Stand  the  dandelion  ladies. 

Gaudy-gay,  in  spring  array. 
Scores  of  dandelion  ladies. 

Green  ruffs  deck  each  slender  neck, 
Evei-y  head  has  perched  upon  it, 

Saucy,  jaunty,  made  to  flaunt, 
A  little  yellow  satin  bonnet. 

What  a  place  for  a  pretty  face, 
In  a  yellow  satin  bonnet. 

This  the  style  for  a  little  while. 
Then,  despite  the  time  or  weather. 

All  unite  on  a  bonnet  white. 
White  and  snowy  as  a  feather. 

Puffy,  fleecy,  moonshine  breezy, 
Thistle-fashioned  crest  of  feather. 


DANDELION'  FASHIONS 


173 


Here  and  there,  every  where. 

Where  the  sun  is,  where  the  shade  is, 

Satin  crown  gives  place  to  down, 
Fickle  dandelion  ladies. 

Blows  the  wind,  and  who  can  find 
One  of  the  dandelion  ladies  ? 

—  Clara  Doty  Bates. 


SUMMER  STORIES  AND  SONGS 


Summer 


175 


HOW   SUMMER   CAME   UPON   EARTH 

The  Indians  say  that  there  was  once  a  time 
when  it  was  winter  all  the  year  round. 

Cold  north  winds  blew,  and  snow  and  hail 
fell  every  month. 

There  was  no  Spring,  with  its  buds  and  tender 
young  leaves.  There  was  no  Summer,  with  its 
long,  warm,  dreamy  days.  Nor  had  any  man 
ever  seen  the  bright  red  and  yellow  dress  of  the 
forests  in  Autumn. 

There  was  a  good  spirit  named  Manitou,  who 
was  a  fisher. 

He  called  all  the  animals  to  meet  and  make  a 
plan  by  which  the  earth  could  have  some  warm 
weather. 

They  thought  that  the  best  way  would  be  to 
leap  up  and  make  a  hole  in  the  sky.  So  that 
they  could  get  some  of  the  heat  and  warmth  of 
heaven. 

The  otter  was  the  first  to  try.  "  That  is  not 
hard  to  do/'  he  said,  as  he  grinned.  "  I  can 
easily  jump  as  high  as  that." 

N  177 


178  SUMMER   STORIES   AND   SONGS 

But  he  soon  changed  his  mind.  For  he  fell 
headlong  through  the  air  down  to  the  earth. 
He  hurt  himself  so  badly  that  he  was  hardly 
able  to  move. 

Then  the  beaver,  and  the  lynx,  and  the 
badger,  each  tried  in  turn. 

At  last  a  wolf  took  such  a  leap  that  he  made 
a  dent  in  the  sky.  Then  he  took  another,  and 
almost  went  through. 

"  Take  me  with  you  this  time,"  said  the 
fisher,  "  for  I  am  sure  we  shall  get  in." 

So,  with  the  fisher  on  his  back,  he  made  a 
third  leap.  This  time  they  made  a  great  hole 
in  the  sky,  and  crept  up  on  the  inside. 

Here  they  found  a  broad,  smooth,  shiny  place, 
with  here  and  there  beautiful  wigwams. 

The  people  who  lived  in  these  wigwams  were 
not  at  home. 

But  there  were  beautiful  singing  birds  in 
cages,  hanging  at  the  door. 

"  These  will  delight  my  little  boy,"  thought 
the  fisher.  He  began  to  open  the  cages,  one 
by  one. 

The  birds  took  flight  through  the  opening  in 
the  sky,  and  came  down  to  the  earth. 

What  do  you  think  they  were  ? 


HOW   SUMMER    CAME    UPON   EARTH  179 

They  were  nothing  less  than  Spring,  Summer, 
and  Autumn. 

Now  the  people  in  the  wigwams  were  not  far 
aw^ay,  and  when  they  saw  the  birds  flying  out, 
they  ran  home. 

They  were  just  in  time  to  make  a  grab  for 
Summer  bird  as  she  was  flying  through  the  hole. 

She  got  away,  but  they  hurt  her  so  that  she 
has  been  sickly  ever  since. 

Then  they  turned  on  the  wolf  and  the  fisher. 

The  wolf  slipped  through  the  hole,  and  got 
safely  back  to  earth. 

But  the  fisher  ran  north.  He  was  closely 
followed  by  the  angry  people,  who  shot  their 
arrows  at  him. 

At  last  he  was  wounded.  He  stretched  him- 
self across  the  part  of  the  sky  where  he  was  to 
die. 

There  he  can  still  be  seen  on  starry  nights. 


180 


SUMMER   STOIIIES   AND   SONGS 


RED   TOP  AND   TIMOTHY 


Red  Top  and  Timothy 

Come  here  in  the  spring ; 
Light  spears  out  of  emerald 
sheaths, 

Everywhere  they  spring : 
Harmless  little  soldiers, 

On  the  fields  they  play ; 
Nodding  plumes  and  crossing 
blades, 

All  the  livelong  day. 


¥^  Red  Top  and  Timothy 

Bring  their  music  band, 
Some  with  scarlet  epaulets, 

Strutting  stiff  and  grand ;. 
Some  in  sky-blue  jackets, 

Some  in  vests  of  pink. 
Black  and  white  their  leader's  coat^ 

Restless  bobolink. 


Red  Top's  airy  feathers 
Tremble  to  his  notes, 


RED   TOP   AND   TIMOTHY  181 

In  themselves  an  orchestra  ; 

Then  a  thousand  throats 
Set  the  woods  a-laughing, 

While  the  saucy  thing, 
Anywhere  on  spike  or  spear, 

Sways  himself  to  swing. 

Timothy  and  Red  Top 

Will  return  again, 
With  familiar  songs  and  flowers, 

Through  the  April  rain  ; 
Though  their  giant  foeman 

Will  not  let  them  be, 
One  who  swings  a  keener  scythe 

Cuts  down  such  as  he. 

—  Lucy  Larcom. 


NATURE  STUDY  FOR  ELEMEN- 
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LIFE  HISTORIES  OF  AMERICAN 
INSECTS. 

By  CLARENCE  MOORES  WEED,  D.Sc, 

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the  progress  of  Its  life.  He  shows  how  very  wide  a  field  of  interesting  facts  is  in 
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not  a  text-book,  but  can  be  used  as  supplementary  reading.  Teachers  who  may  care 
to  complete  their  school  or  private  libraries  by  an  exhaustive  treatment  of  Ento- 
mology will  find  the  most  complete  and  up-to-date  work  of  the  kind  in  Dr.  Packard's 
elaborate  text-book,  to  be  issued  shortly.  This  volume  will  serve  as  a  somewhat 
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